


Snapshots

by Jude_littlewanderer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Cancer, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, I'm Bad At Titles, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, New York City, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Brainwashing, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Photography, Rey Needs A Hug, Running Away, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude_littlewanderer/pseuds/Jude_littlewanderer
Summary: Rey's an addict. She needs the click of a camera to get her through the day. Each month she wakes up in a new city, but her legs keep itching for her to run. As she travels around the world, escaping from the problems of her past, Rey finds that her mysterious Instagram friend may hold the answers she avoids.Ben never intended to follow her on Instagram. His fingers just poked the button instinctually. He didn't plan to send her a DM with one of his photos either. Now, he's in too deep. His heart races every time Rey_from_Nowhere replies. Could she understand him? Does he want her to understand him?





	1. Chapter 1

Rey became an addict long ago. She needs to dissect the world into a series of camera clicks. It allows her to have control, to interact with the undying mystery of the universe. Rey understands the world through a series of snapshots. Whenever she prowls through the streets with her Canon, she notices the serendipitous pleasures the world offers. Every time she adjusts the settings and takes the picture, her heart pounds and her face flushes. Her fingers itch to press down on the plastic button, while her ears await the click of a camera. Rey’s mouth may be capable of forming words, but she chooses to speak through her photos.

  
She usually only pays vague attention to her Instagram account, since she chooses to focus more time and energy on her blog, but when she sees the alert today she chooses to click on it: Kylo_Ren started following you. With a grunt she taps the darkened name. In seconds his profile loads and his photos take her breath away: hard lines, metallic sheens, long-exposures, blurs of crimson, playful shadows.

His pictures have a mysterious charisma that draws her in and leaves her craving more. She wants to understand the man behind the camera, yet his photos reveal so little. He seems to push the world away with each picture; they all hold a metallic coldness that leaves her brushing aside goose bumps. Almost instinctually she likes one of his pictures from a few weeks ago: a sliver of the moon reflected through the cool glass of a skyscraper that reaches for the sky like Icarus above a stream of reds, oranges, and yellows. She glances up, wondering where he found such an impressive sight. Ah, New York City, of course: a city of glass and hubris that never sleeps. He captured the city’s personality in a single photo. The thought causes her gut to twist and knot like a hungry snake. Breathless, she follows him back.

                                                                          …  
A week later she notices a DM on Instagram and with a shrug pokes the alert. In seconds the photo loads. She stares at it, blinking the clouds of sleep from her eyes in a vain attempt to make sense of the gleaming lines before her. She pulls herself up and slouches against the pillows while trying to force her hand through her tangled trusses. Rubbing her eyes, she looks back at her phone. She’s staring at the reflection of the sun caught in the corner of a chicken wire fence and the swaying shadows that appear woven together like a spider’s web.

Glancing at the sender, her heart stutters: it’s Kylo_Ren. She revaluates the picture and gaffs. The photo practically oozes with his presence. She has to hand it to him, he certainly has a distinct and inimitable style: all angles, shadows, reflections, and metal. His art seems to push the viewer away for trying to understand the man behind the camera, but those angles and reflections feel like a playful jostling instead of pure mockery.

In answer to his consistent use of metal and nonorganic substances, she decides on one she’d taken back in Rome: a performer embraced by the yellow halo of a street light and bent over his guitar. His passionate gaze towards the instrument counterbalanced with a gleeful smile reminiscent of a young child at Christmas. Her photo lacks Kylo’s illusions and trickery. Instead, it gives off a sense of sincere warmth. She concludes that both express a hint of playfulness though and with a gulp sends him her photo. Her stomach burns with dread, but she shrugs off the sensation. Stretching, Rey gets out of bed and shuffles to the kitchen for breakfast.  
                                                                                    …

The next morning, she awakens to another DM from Kylo_Ren. Her heart races and she practically jumps out of bed. Only to bang the crown of her head on the sloped ceiling of her airbnb apartment. She sighs to herself and rubs the familiar, smarting bump. She needs to start remembering that this place has that low, climbing ceiling due to being on the top floor or some such reason. Stumbling to the kitchen, Rey turns on the kettle, spoons some coffee into the French press, and proceeds to cram baguette into the toaster. Finally, she rewards herself.

He captured Brooklyn Bridge at sunset from a bird’s eye view. The reflection of the crimson light upon the river below turns the wavy waters into rising flames. it glints and paints the bridge scarlet. Everything appears aflame. She ponders the picture, searching for meaning. Finally, it hits her: he’s burning his bridges.

Her stomach clenches and her heart races. Her mouth waters at the thought of forgetting her past and letting it all burn. For a few precious seconds, the invisible boulder that sits on her shoulders seems to roll off of them. But then her fingers dance along the tell-tale raised white marks on her hips and stomach. She bites her lip and sighs. A blank canvas appears beautiful due to its potential, but only one marred with paint can earn the title of masterpiece, she tells herself. Prying her baguette out of the toaster, she realizes that its already cooled and she swirls to grab some butter and currant preserves. Rey devours the sticky treat, cleans the kitchen, and runs to grab her laptop, external hard drive, and the SD card she’s currently using. She needs to look for a reply.

As she plugs her hard drive into her laptop, Rey’s mind journeys to the past.

                                                                                …

Seventeen with a busted lip and a black eye, she stood along the dusty road with a salvaged card board sign and her thumb pointed up like some hopeful prairie dog with all of her worldly belongings lovingly folded up in her ratty backpack. Rey remembers laughing and reminding herself that at least this time she had a real backpack, instead of just another garbage bag.

She spent most of the morning trudging along the desert road in a desperate attempt to get as far away from him as she could before she finally let herself stop and wait. Eventually, a car paused and Rey slipped in before the driver could change his mind. Bruce Springsteen belted from the speakers of the man’s beaten up VW camper van and he’d turned to her with a mischievous glint and a smirk, which evaporated when his eyes focused on her face. Wordlessly, he slammed the door shut and stomped on the gas. Rey couldn’t hold back her oxymoronic emotions: the gleeful laughter and melancholic tears.

Han Solo drove the getaway car. His gruff manners and grunting dialogue acted as an odd balm. He never asked how she got beaten up and she never questioned him as to why a sixty-year-old man tore through the desert with only his dog and a constantly vibrating phone in the back seat.

They finally stopped at a gas station half an hour after they’d whirled passed the emerald Welcome to California sign. When Rey rushed out to use the restroom, she practically trembled from fear. She barely washed her hands and sprinted back to his car. She nearly sobbed when she noticed its distinct absence.

Then she felt a calloused hand on her shoulder and as she turned she saw Han with his tell-tale smirk offering her a greasy, gas station hot dog, Lay’s, and water. She hugged him then. He nearly dropped her chips, but then slowly wrapped his own arms around her. Rey can’t remember hugging anyone before Han. It made her stomach churn at first, but then she felt oddly warm and her tensed shoulder relaxed for the first time in what felt like years.

They sprinted through the California landscape in the Falcon, as Han jokingly referred to his car. Rey hummed along to the never-ending Bruce Springsteen soundtrack with one hand out the window. Sometimes she closed her eyes and imagined she had wings as they flew along the asphalt racing to nowhere in particular. After a few days of near silence, her throat shrank from disuse. When Rey spoke, she’d have to clear her throat in order to get the words out.

She wondered what caused a man like Han to run. His restless fingers tapped out unknown rock anthems on the steering wheel and some glint in his eye stirred her stomach from the wildness of it. When she looked into those nearly feral eyes, she wondered if this man even knew how to stop running.

When they rested at gas stations, she noticed him hunched over his cellphone on a few different occasions. Each time, his hand rubbed the back of his neck, leaving harsh red marks. He kicked at the asphalt and she’d hear him practically growl at the phone. The first time, Rey slinked away. Her mind flickering to another time with a different man. She almost walked away that time. But then she saw how Han stroked Chewie, his massive mutt, and she stayed. The second time, Rey heard a female voice coming out of the phone. She couldn’t make out the words, but the love and desperation in that voice sounded like the opening chord to a song Rey longed to remember, but couldn’t quite grasp the melody. That time she didn’t speak.

They eventually wound up in San Francisco. They drove across the Golden Gate Bridge at sunrise and the city appeared before them: some blurry, rose colored paradise. Han passed her a napkin and she swiped the traitorous tears out of her eyes before grinning back. Han peeled off the road and they stretched their legs at some park soon after. She saw his hands shake as he hit the buttons with a well-worn sort of familiarity. After a few rings, the woman who left Han all those messages seemed to pick up, and Rey couldn’t stifle her laughter as she heard Han get chastised like some misbehaving child. After the call, Han handed her Chewie’s leash and then turned and strolled down the path. Rey looked at the mutt, and then walked the other way with Chewie at her heels.

While they sat in some independent coffee shop pondering their drinks and picking apart their pastries, Han finally spoke. He talked about a life back in New York City with a workaholic wife whom he loved, but whom he constantly fought with and a son so used to being ignored that eventually said son just left without a note. Han laughed bitterly at that point, shaking his head and tearing apart the lemon pound cake set before him. He chewed on his words, slouched, then looked up at her with a grimace before admitting that he blamed himself.

Han spun a tale of a dashing young man addicted to the adrenaline high of flying through a sky filled with enemy fire. He explained how tantalizing and infinite one felt when defying death on a daily basis. He told Rey how his love for his wife bloomed from the passionate arguments and biting words. He loved her like someone loves a rose: a beautiful sight that left his palms aching and bleeding, but his nose aching for another whiff of that scent. His eyes gleamed and he ran his hand through his hair roughly. Finally, he looked up at her.

“I’m an addict, kid.” Rey’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t stay still. I can’t stay put in one place. I get trapped. I feel caged. I need that rush, kid. I need to have the controls in my hands as I swoop through the sky and hurtle towards doom with a smile. I can’t… I’m not…” Han sighs, “No one wants a father like me. Poor, kid he always struggled. The kid gets so locked up in his head. He overthinks everything, like some sorta masochist. He needed people to listen and to talk. But I’m… I’m not usually the talking type.”

Rey notes the tears wavering in Han’s eyes. She bites her lip and forces a smile.

“There are worse things to be addicted to,” she says. Han just laughs bitterly with a quirked eyebrow.

“You an addict too, kid?”

“… No…”  
Han shuts up and looks at her then. He sighs and runs another hand through his hair.

“I’m going back. You coming, kid?” A lump lodges in Rey’s throat and her eyes prickle. She pushes herself up from the table and out of the coffee shop. She won’t cry in public. As she stumbles outside, she feels the first faint drops of rain. Biting her cheeks, she turns back to Han and nods a jerky yes.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben continue to send each other Instagram DM's. Rey receives sad news and finds herself headed back to NYC.

Rey finally settles on one of her earlier photos: an elderly woman caught between the shadows and the light with red-clay skin, furrowed brows and a thoughtful grimace wrapped in a storm grey tarp that flows over her right shoulder strolling besides the ocean during golden hour with the high-rise of swanky steel and glass hotels in the background. The woman walks between two paths of footprints, although countless others have marked the beige sand. The footprints to her left have faded from the relentless battering of the waves, while those to her right appear as if carved into the sand itself. Despite the plethora of paths, this elderly woman carves her own way. Rey nods to herself and clicks send.

Afterwards, Rey finally abandons the apartment on a scavenging trip. Stopping by the nearby boulanger with its cherry red storefront, Rey buys several baguettes and carries them in the crook of her arm as she begins her daily adventure of aimless ambling.

She pauses by Pierre who sits on a tattered piece of cardboard in front of a café with his ratty black and white dog and a paper cup filled with loose change and hands him a baguette with a smile. He gives her a hopeful nod and his dog licks her palm. After they exchange a few words, Rey pops in her earbuds and continues on her way.

As she walks the cobbled streets, Rey searches for truth marred with beauty and pain through the lens of her camera. Long ago, Rey promised to herself to take photos both of the beautiful facades of buildings and the hunched forms of homeless people. She wants to capture both the wonders of the world and its tragedies.

After the streets darken and the world becomes illuminated by the yellow of streetlamps, Rey heads back to her apartment. She shoulders her way inside, clicks the stairway light on, and rushes up the steps to reach her door before the timer runs out and she’s left floundering in the dark. Once her phone reaches the umbrella of wifi service offered by her apartment, it begins to go off with a series of loud beeps and chimes. She grimaces, but forces a grin and stares at her phone while fumbling around the kitchen to make some tea.

She spots the familiar culprits in her notifications: Finn, Poe, and Rose, but then she notes a fourth name and Rey chokes back a sob. She clicks open Whatsapp and listens to the audio message that Leia left her. Rey wipes away the tears that dribble down her cheeks. Her free hand tightens into a fist, before falling limp at her side. She didn’t think Leia even knew about Whatsapp, but the fifty-five-year-old woman constantly surprises Rey. Realizing she’d barely comprehended the message, Rey hits repeat and leans against the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Rey. It’s been a few years, but I was thinking of having a memorial dinner for Han. He’d probably hate the thing, but he’s been dead five years now and I want this, so his memory will just have to tolerate it. Besides, I have colon cancer. It’s stage three. It isn’t terminal yet, but the doctor doesn’t seem too hopeful. I’ve built a career on hope, so I’m going to keep fighting, but I think its important to be practical too. So often… So often I ignored the people I loved in order to focus on my ideas about justice and making the world a better place. I like to think I accomplished something, but I also hurt people close to me in the process. So, I’m inviting some of the people I care about to New York for this memorial dinner in Han’s honor. It’ll be in a month. It’s on the day… The day he died. I just wanted to give you a heads up, since I know you’re not in the States. I’ve been keeping up with your blog. It lets me feel like I’m not estranged from both of my children. You’re… Well, I never said it before… Han and I were never really the talking types… But you’re like a daughter to me, Rey. I hope to see you there, dear. I can help pay for the plane ticket. I won’t need the money where I’m going. I’m proud of you. One last thing, I haven’t told many of the others about my illness. Please, don’t tell Poe and Finn. I’ll tell those boys in my own time, dear.”

That night Rey just lies in bed, staring at the orange-tinged night sky and biting her cheeks. Her face feels liked dried mud, but her arms stay planted at her sides as she continues to stare out that dirty skylight until she eventual falls prey to the undertow of sleep.  
                                                                                …  
Rey lies in bed for hours the next morning just staring at the ceiling and wishing desperately for answers for her unasked questions to form on its blank expanse. Instead, the white ceiling stares back disinterestedly and she growls and turns to her side.

Deciding to ignore all the healthy means of coping with tragic news that she’s heard too often from too many people, Rey instead looks at her phone and pokes the Instagram notification. Kylo_Ren’s newest dm loads and Rey stares at an ebony motorcycle helmet with spider web cracks reflecting a fractured version of some busy street alit with the long-exposure gleams of red and white car lights flashing by. Biting her lip, she holds back the memories of another night with a different helmet.  
                                                                            …  
She sat in the shadows of the stairway and strained to hear the pleading tones of Han’s mysterious son on the answering machine. Han and Leia stomped around the living room in a frenzied storm. Two empty glasses next to a stainless steel decanter and a half-full bottle of amber liquid flickered in the light of the fire. Han rushed around looking for his keys with a flushed face, while Leia clutched them in her fist while trying to stab some number into her cellphone.

Rey heard the words taxi and Han’s grunt. She saw him shake his head and finally pry the keys from Leia. Leia reached for Han and tried to hold him back, but the man shrugged her off and muttered something that Rey couldn’t hear. Both of the adults glanced at the girl crouched on the staircase and she slouched back to the guest-room that they insisted she call her room for five months now.

That night, she awoke in a rib-crushing hug to Leia’s tearstained face reflecting the moonlight. Policemen trampled around the house and glanced at her curiously. Leia seemed to notice their eyes and drew their attention away from the shivering Rey each time. Still, a few came up to her and one showed her a photo of a crushed helmet stained scarlet and burgundy with a cracked visor that reflected the remains of Han’s motorcycle.

The twisted and malformed motorcycle looked like a discarded children’s toy, and Han’s limp body seemed like some forgotten, raggedy doll. The police asked her questions, but Rey just shook her head and clutched her sides. Eventually the cops retreated and Rey slunk back to the guest-room and hid under the covers. She fell back asleep listening to Chewie’s snores with one hand fisted in his curly brown fur.

Leia held a succinct funeral. The man who stood over Han’s casket barely spoke a paragraph before Leia tossed the dirt onto Han’s mahogany coffin. Rey struggled to hold Chewie back and the dog bayed loudly. She kept looking over her shoulder, but neither Han nor his and Leia’s mysterious son appeared. Leia invited the attendants back to her house afterwards. Many came and worn-out tales of adventure were shared over glasses of wine, but the ghost of Han hung in the air and all the laughs at his young and reckless antics didn’t reach the eyes of the guests. She heard the name Ben uttered every once and awhile, but each time someone would shush the questioner with a glare and point to Leia. Rey stayed in the shadows, clutching onto Chewie’s leash and holding back her tears.

The morning after Han’s funeral, Rey left Leia with a letter and a promise. She loaded up the Falcon and glanced back at Han’s home one last time before blaring Bruce Springsteen and reversing the VW camper wagon out of Leia’s long driveway. Rey spent the next year driving back and forth across the nation with Chewie in the co-pilot seat, Springsteen on the stereo, and her camera in the back seat. When she turned eighteen, she loaned the Falcon to Poe, returned Chewie to Leia, took the GED, and bought a ticket to China. Rey hasn’t stopped running since.  
                                                                               …  
Eventually she shrugs off the stupor and propels herself through the motions of making brunch. Checking the calendar app on her phone, she nods to herself when she sees that its Tuesday. She then jumps to Hopper and starts looking at the flight price trends. According to the travel app, most of the one-way tickets from Paris to New York in May seem alright.

She then opens up her laptop to an incognito window, loads up Skyscanner and Momondo and pursues the options. Neither seem to have any spectacular deals, so she jumps to Norwegian Airlines. She makes sure to choose the Norwegian language option and then double-checks everything with google translate and a currency calculator. She chooses the lowfare option, opts out of a meal, double-checks that she can bring a carry-on and a personal item, and then buys the ticket for 154 euro. She snaps a photo of the transaction with her phone, and takes a screenshot on her computer just to be safe. Finally, Rey opens up Facebook Messenger and decides to reply to Finn’s request to Skype from a few weeks ago.  
                                                                                  …  
She listens to the radar beeps of Skype and watches the emblem load as Finn and Poe’s grinning faces appear on her computer screen. The two lean against the the bed board. Poe has an arm around Finn who is stroking a long-haired orange and white tabby cat.

“New cat?” asks Rey.

“Relatively new, we got her 2 weeks ago. Isn’t she a cutie?” responds Poe.

“What’s her name?” asks Rey.

“BB!” says Finn.

“BB?”

“Yeah… Like Bridget Bardot.” he explains.

“… Since when were you a fan of French cinema?”

“Well, actually… Poe claimed I was uncultured, so we decided to name our cat after a French actress,” Finn says.

“How would naming your cat after the crazy right-wing Bridget Bardot prove you’re cultured?”

“She’s what? But…” sputters Finn.

Poe just laughs and shakes his head. He kisses Finn on the forehead before turning to Rey.

“That’s why I claim she’s named Bebe,” Poe answers with a wink.

“So you knew and still let him name your cat after her?”

“It’s a hell of a drinking story,” Poe smirks. Finn just sits and glares at Poe. Rey can’t hold back her laughter, before sobering up.

“I got tickets back to the States.”

“Really? Are you coming to New York? How long will you be here?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be arriving May 4th. I’m not sure how long I’ll stay yet. I might try to book a gallery show or two to make some money. That Takodana award ought to help me get my foot in the door. If I can’t get a gallery slot, then I’ll probably hang around for just a month or two. New York’s expensive and I doubt anyone would hire me. It depends on how things go.”

“You know you’re welcome to work at Resistance, right?”

“Finn, that would just be taking advantage of Leia.”

“No really, your photos and articles last time were insightful and garnered a lot of new viewers. Not to mention, Rose said you showed a talent for graphic design. We’re trying to update and improve our website, so we could always use another contractor,” interjects Poe.

“But I have no formal graphic design training.”

“True, but I’ve seen some of the stuff you posted on your blog. Besides no formal training means you’ll be cheaper. We’re a non-profit organization and the majority of my cases are pro bono. We can’t afford a graphic designer. Finn and I can barely pay rent.”

“Does that mean?”

“Finn tried to ask you.”

“So you don’t have that spare room anymore? What about my stuff?”

“Rey, what stuff? You have a few Bruce Springsteen CDs, some old clothes, and a raggedy doll that stinks.”

“What did you do with my stuff?”

“It’s fine. We’re storing it in the Falcon.”

“Can I at least use your couch?”

“Well, if you want you can… But our roommate’s difficult. You might want to just stay with Leia.”

“Poe, she’s already done so much for me. I can’t ask her that.”

“Rey, she wants to help you. You’re not being a burden. God! You always do this. Rey, we are here for you. We care for you. You don’t need to keep being so fucking independent. You can rely on us. You can ask for help” Poe sighs.

“Look, Rey… I’m sorry that we had to start renting out your old room, but you barely live here. You’ve slept over maybe a total of one or two months the last three years. The landlord raised rent for the whole building and we couldn’t afford to keep paying for two rooms when we only use one. I tried to text you about it, but you never replied and then we got a good offer. You can use the couch. We’ll explain it to our roommate. I tried to tell him about you, but he’s always in and out of the apartment. The guy’s like a vampire or something. He’s always out at night with his weird bag. It’s crazy,” says Finn.

“Sorry,” Rey sighs. “You both are right. I just… Leia’s done so much for me. She probably wouldn’t mind letting me use her guest-room, but… I just can’t stay there. It brings back too many memories.”

“You really need to stop calling that the guest-room, Rey. She’s been referring to it as your room for years now. She even decorated it with your photos and trophies,” interjects Poe. Finn elbows him in the ribs and turns back to Rey.

“We’re just happy you decided to Skype us. We’ll have to take you out when you get here. Rose will be so excited. You should text her sometimes. She’s been having a tough time with everything.”

“Wait, what happened?”

“You didn’t know?” asks Finn.

“No, what are you talking about?”

“Paige died.”

“What? When?”

“Last August. She died serving overseas,” says Poe.

“Oh, poor Rose. Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“We just assumed you knew,” says Poe.

“She didn’t text you about it?” asks Finn.

“No, she’s just talked a lot about work and mentioned wanting to get a new hobby. Shit, I’m her friend. I should have known.”

“Rey, you’re barely around. She probably already felt overwhelmed and just didn’t want to talk about it more than she had to. Besides, I love you, girl, but you aren’t exactly the best texter. You’re busy; I get it, but sometimes it can be tough to talk about the more personal stuff through text, especially when you don’t expect a response for a week or two. I don’t mind and Poe, Rose, and I all want you in our lives, but sometimes you just won’t be in the loop. It’s ok.”

“So, where are you this time?” asks Poe with a laugh. He hugs Finn closer to his chest and looks back at Rey with a quirked brow.

“I’m in Paris at the moment. I spent a few weeks jumping from city to city and exploring the countryside, but I got a train to Brussels in two days, so I wanted to enjoy Paris for my last week in France.”

“I thought you were in Italy,” interrupts Finn.

“No, I was in Italy about a month ago.”

‘Wait, so where have you gone this time?”

“I started in Stockholm and explored Sweden and then Norway for a month. From Norway I booked a flight and rented a car and just drove through Iceland. Then I went to Denmark for a few days. I couldn’t afford to stay there too long though. It’s so expensive. After that I went to Finland and took the ferry from Helinski to Saint Petersburg. Being in Russia put my time in the Schengen zone on hold, so I stayed in Saint Petersburg for about a week before heading to Moscow. At this point, I’d already used about two of my three months in the Schengen zone, so I booked a flight from Moscow to Portugal and spent the rest of my time there. After that, I went to Croatia for a month, then I spent the next two months exploring Bosnia and Herzegonia, Albania, Macedonia, Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania, and Moldova. I then went to Greece for a few weeks, then I spent the rest of that month in Spain and split my next month between Italy and France. When I go to Belgium I should have about a month before I need to leave the Schengen zone. I plan to go to the Netherlands, then Germany, and Switzerland. From Switzerland, I’ll take a train back to France. I booked a flight back to the US with Norwegian Airlines out of Paris.”

“Whoa, peanut… that’s… How many months is that? It seems like you barely stopped moving,” says Finn.

“Yeah, this time through I decided to focus on my photography and travel writing, so I needed to travel faster than usual. I still worked as an English teacher and waitress in a few places and I did several volunteer-stays and used couchsurfer a lot to cut down costs. I’ve been getting by better than I thought though. Your advice about applying to more competitions really helped. I’ve been getting a lot more buyers and I was able to have a few gallery showings in Paris, and some more in Stockholm, one in Saint Petersburg, another in Madrid, then in Barcelona, and finally in Milan.”

Poe just whistles. Rey hears a muffled swear and clattering in the distance. Finn and Poe glance at each other with worried looks, before Poe peels away. Rey swears she hears Poe mutter about a roommate before the door to his and Finn’s bedroom slams shut.

“Everything ok? Roommate troubles?”

Finn sighs, “He’s quiet, pays his rent on time, and doesn’t host any parties or bring people over, so I shouldn’t complain, but it’s just so awkward! He barely talks to us and just flies in and out of the apartment at crazy hours. When we do talk, he just glares, growls, or yells. I swear I’ve never seen him smile.”

“Never?

“Okay, sometimes I see him looking at his cellphone or computer with this huge grin on his face, but that’s it.”

“That’s… Odd.”

“Poe tried to ask him about it once, and the guy just bristled.”

“Maybe he has an online significant other or is long-distance?”

“I guess, but I pity the person who dates him,” sighs Finn. Rey hears raised voices and looks at Finn. His cheek twitches and he keeps glancing at the door and biting his lip.  
“Go help Poe. I don’t mind. It was nice catching up. We can talk more another time. Also, I’m sorry I got so upset about my stuff. It really isn’t a big deal. I’m just having issues sleeping and I guess the sleep-deprivation is catching up with me.”  
“Thanks, peanut. You know all of us love you, right?”  
“Thanks, Finn. Tell Poe bye for me.”

Rey logs out of Skype and rubs her eyes. She glances between the tea bags and coffee tin before finally settling on brewing herself a cup of coffee. As she waits for the water to boil, Rey looks at the last DM Kylo_Ren sent her and wonders how to reply to his latest photo. The cracked visor could represent a warped perspective, and the way that it lies haphazardly on the asphalt might mean someone losing his or her head, she muses. Perhaps fractured lights of cars rushing by symbolizes his discontent with the uneven advancement of modern society and its rushed and heartless race to progress. Rey bites back a laugh. Whoever sends her these photos probably never planned for her to misinterpret them this much. Still, Kylo_Ren’s most recent photo felt tinged in melancholy. Somehow the way the cars pass by squeezes Rey’s heart. Staring at the visor that blankly reflects this ruined world makes Rey bite her lip and hug herself. When she stares too long, she begins to see a small girl desperately hammering against a locked door in a dark room, but despite the girl’s screams no one comes. Rey grabs her hard drive and rushes back to the kitchen. This time, someone will come.

She scrolls through her photos until she finally finds the one of a homeless mother and her daughter. The daughter’s wrist bones and ribs poke out from her skin like prisoners begging for sunlight. Her blue dress has innumerable stains and dirt covers her shoes and cheeks. She leans against her mother, who looks down with love and learns to kiss the child on the forehead. The mother wears a loose red top and jaundice cone-shaped hat. They both sit on a blackened cardboard bed and the mother leans against the white building behind her. Rey met the pair back in Viet Nam and talked with them for an hour over iced coffee. She taught the girl how to count and negotiate in English, while the mother nodded enthusiastically and clapped at her daughter’s progress. Sometimes Rey imagines she can still hear the sounds of that mother’s clapping. The pair cause her chest to ache, but a wave of calm washes over Rey when she looks at the love in that mother’s eyes. For good measure, Rey also sends a simple black and white photo that focuses solely on the intertwined fingers of two people holding hands. One hand appears cast in shadow, while the other basks in the sunlight. She smiles down at her phone and envisions Kylo_Ren’s face when he chances upon her response. He’s not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for dropping by and reading this. I hope you like it so far. I apologize for the info dump concerning booking flights and traveling, but I really wanted the opportunity to explain how one can find good deals on flights and housing while traveling. I've seen other writers post very expensive airline ticket prices, and while one can easily end up buying expensive flights like these, there are ways to save. (Watch the ticket prices fluctuate on flight tracking apps like Hopper, book on a Monday or Tuesday, try to use an incognito window, use skyscanner to find deals-but ultimately it is better to book directly with the company, and know your local discount airlines- Norwegian Airlines, Ryannair, WOW, Air Asia, Spirit, etc, look for volunteering for housing options- these usually come with a free meal or two each day, and if you want to stay somewhere for a while, then teach your native language abroad- If you sign a year-long teaching contract, then most legitimate employers will pay for your ticket ) Considering that Rey barely had any money when she got started, I figured that the thrifty girl would scavenge for deals. Next chapter we'll have Ben's POV!


	3. Chapter 3

Ben started following Rey_from_Nowhere two weeks after finding out he only earned runner-up at the Takodana competition. When he first heard the news, Ben broke the door leading to his bedroom, before proceeding to tear apart his couch and throw his toaster through the window. At that point, Ben lost himself. He could only hear his heartbeat and his shallow breathes, and the ripping of textiles and the crunch of wood. 

The whirl of a police siren eventually pushed Ben back into his right mind. He blinked and stared at the remnants of his apartment while a tall policeman with a bulging belly cuffed Ben and sneered in disgust at the bachelor. After calling his lawyer from a jail cell and getting out on bail, Ben discovered his landlord evicted him from his flat. Of course, the landlord kept his security deposit. 

The next week passed in a blur as he walked through apartment after apartment. Eventually, he chanced upon Finn and Poe’s advertisement while having an expresso at one of his favorite coffee shops. A few calls and a walk through later, Ben moved out of his hotel room and into the bedroom besides Finn and Poe’s. 

The apartment had warm oak floors, white-washed walls, and tasteful decorations. It’s only fault lay in its inhabitants. At first, Ben planned to simply ignore the two, but Finn kept knocking on his door with invitations to hang out and Poe kept glaring at him every time Ben gestured to his computer and shook his head. 

As the weeks passed, Finn knocked less, but Poe glared more. Now every time Ben enters the apartment, he hears the two stage whispering together. When he feels more amused, the constant clucking of the two reminds him of hens or obnoxious aunts. 

In a rare moment of clarity, Ben admits partial responsibility for this miscommunication and the continued disintegration of their relationship. He never explained his career to them, so they don’t understand how Ben works around the clock. Anytime Ben tells someone he’s a photographer people just shove their iPhones under his nose and ask for his opinion on their selfies and tourist pictures. Sure, occasionally one or two people show him a decent photo, but usually they all remind him of a Warhol painting: the same object replicated hundreds of times. 

If the listener doesn’t force Ben to sit and stare at their blurry pictures, then he or she usually rambles on about how unstable Ben’s career must be and he or she starts asking if he has a more practical job as well. After getting smacked a couple times because he couldn’t hold back a witticism or two, Ben just avoids talking about his work outside of the art galleries on principal. 

Every once in awhile he considers opening his mouth and explaining his workaholic ways to his flat mates. But each time he opens his mouth, he swears he hears them muttering about unreliable artists, so he just clamps his mouth shut and decides that if the two haven’t bothered to notice his not exactly subtle camera and its equipment, then they obviously don’t care that much. 

As for his constant refusal to hang out, Ben simply lacks the time and the energy. Ben spends hours combing through the thousands of photos he takes each day. He flitters between Adobe Photoshop and Affinity Photo in a desperate attempt to guarantee each line looks sharp and every color appears crisp. 

Not to mention, he juggles two jobs at this point. Each day, he arrives at the offices of Starkiller magazine crisply at nine with the paper, his coffee, and his camera. At five, he rushes out with only his camera and accessories bag in a desperate attempt to catch the ephemeral light of golden hour and the looming shadows that follow it. After the city becomes enshrouded in darkness, Ben stalks through the streets with his camera, its stand, and climbing gear. 

He can usually bribe his way to the tops of skyscrapers, but sometimes he resorts to crawling up to the tops of bridges, scaling walls, or clutching onto statues when he notices a particularly interesting angle. On those nights he tends to limp back to the apartment with a grin. The bruises the next morning elicit grumpy glares and grunted greetings though. 

After a week to storm and stew, curiosity poked and prodded Ben until he finally looked up this mysterious Rey. A few accidental clicks to porn sites later, he finally chanced upon an article written about the Takodana competition and the young, female upstart who won the photography category. He glances through the article and only pauses to read her responses and stare at her photo. 

Something about the way she talks about photography and the world causes Ben’s heart to forget to beat and his face to flush. His fingers trace the edge of her jaw. Her hazel eyes sparkle. He bookmarks the page. That night he re-reads her article five times before he finally pinches himself out of this odd stupor and types the name of her blog into Google’s search bar. 

He finally falls asleep at four AM after hours pouring over her pictures and the brief accompanying articles describing her travels. He smiles while reading her musings and memories. He imagines her sitting beside him on his bed, and he wishes he could talk to this fascinating girl who seems so intent on running away, yet so scared of being alone. The next morning over a cup of coffee he searches for her on Instagram and immediately stabs at the follow button. 

When she follows him back, he can’t contain his smile. He scrolls through her Instagram again and hums and pauses over each photo. At this point, he’s practically memorized all 943 pictures, but he still feels that same giddy rush each time he analyzes them. 

Ben’s heart hammers. He wonders if her following him back means she likes his art. Some part of him hopes that it means she likes and accepts him too. He punches the fridge and the smarting of his knuckles quiets his childish fantasizing. Swirling around, Ben grabs his camera and rushes out of the apartment to find the perfect photo for her. 

Eventually, he captured and edited his hello image. At first, he hesitated between sending her one of the ever-growing list of questions he has or a photo. But then, he thought back to her travel articles and her near obsessive visual descriptions. She communicates through photos, he muses. Lucky for him, he’s fluent in that language. With a grin and a swig of his beer, he sends her a photo of shadows woven together on the concrete. We all have dark ties, he laughs.  
…  
Ben stares down at Rey_from_Nowhere’s newest reply. He realizes that she sent him two photos this time and he melts into the pillows with a sigh. This girl turns him into a love-sick teenager, he laughs. Well, if he were in love that is, which he’s not, of course!

He looks at the Vietnamese mother and daughter huddled together on some battered cardboard. Rey captures the mother’s love in the curve of her hand and warmth in her eyes. Ben bets Rey wants to cheer him up somehow. The girl translates his photos into conversations with nary an error. She must have realized his pain and the call for help hidden in his last photo. 

Still, the topic of mothers causes his eyes to prickle and Ben tries to school his features into a mask of indifference. Thinking back to his mother’s latest voicemail erases his grin and tightens his shoulders. Cancer. The great Leia Organa, metaphorical general for armies of idealists and revolutionaries, will die of cancer. She spent her life fighting the rotting injustice of the world, yet her own body betrayed her in the end. Ben wants to remain stoic and uncaring, but instead he rubs the traitorous tears from his eyes. 

Gritting his teeth, Ben looks down at the second photo Rey sent him and becomes transfixed. Rey sent him a photo of two intertwined hands caught between the shadow and the light. The image grows fuzzy and Ben finally relents and wipes away the tears from earlier. He then goes back to analyzing her picture. 

Some hopeful voice whispers that she’s offering him a hand. His cynical alter-ego laughs and points out that her playful use of shadow mimics his own in this photo; she probably just wanted to show him that she appreciates his style. He’s seen Rey play around with shadows, lines, and illusions before, but he knows she tends to prefer the stark truth in her compositions. Still, he sighs, he wants to imagine that the hand imbued with golden hues is clutching his own, stained hand. He wishes she could wash away his sins with her smile, but Ben became forsaken years ago. 

Now, he relishes the role of monster. He uses his pain and hatred to fuel his art. Snoke claims that the mental self-flagellation will drag Ben’s work to new highs. Lately though, looking at Rey’s photos and reading her articles causes doubt to flash across his face. Her talent seems to flow from her love of the world; while he stokes the fire of his ire in a desperate attempt to force creativity to dribble out from his self-inflicted wounds. 

Perhaps this difference causes Ben to obsess over her published works each day and imagine the tinkle of her laughter. A small voice whispers that he wants her to save him from himself. That night Ben falls asleep staring at the photo of two clasped hands and imagining how her hand would feel in his.  
…  
Ben awakens to the sound of muffled swearing. Glaring at the calendar on his wall, he flips over to his side and hides his head beneath the pillows. He sleeps in on Sundays. Every other day of the week Ben wakes up at the crack of dawn to run before work, but on the one day he rewards himself his stupid roommates always manage to make a commotion. More swearing and this time he heads a metallic clatter. Ben slumps out of bed and shuffles to his bedroom door. Craning his head into the hallway, he spots Finn and Poe building some Ikea contraption. 

“What happened to our couch?” Ben growls.

“Well, our boss got us a new one,” mutters Finn nervously. The fuck?

“Why?” Ben spits out. 

“It’s a weird situation really,” Finn sighs. 

Poe jumps in, “You see, her daughter is staying over in a month or so, and I guess she just got a little zealous.”

“Why wouldn’t her daughter just stay with her?”

“Well, she’s not technically our boss’s daughter,” edges in Finn. 

“Technically?”

“Like, she isn’t related by blood,” explains Finn.

“So… Adopted?”

“Not exactly that either… More… Well, our boss likes her, and her first child seems like a fuck-up, so I guess after the time they spent together our boss started considering her the daughter she never had,” rushes Finn.

“That still doesn’t explain why she isn’t just staying with your boss though. Plus, why did we need to get a new couch? Wait…No! You never asked.”

“We were going to last night, but…” Finn suddenly seems tremendously interested in one of metallic bars by Ben’s foot. 

“You should have at least asked.”

“Sorry, we intended to, but everything just happened in a rush. Our boss practically begged us to house her.”

“Do you not like this girl so something? Is she an entitled brat?”

“No! No! She’s the opposite really. It’s just… Well, she’s not always reliable, and she’s too damn independent sometimes. She’s always moving around, and you never know when she’ll actually reply to your messages… Plus, she’s so skittish and impulsive, but oddly organized. Anyway, it’s difficult to get her to come back to New York,” Finn rants.

“More like its impossible to drag her back to the US,” mutters Poe. 

“This seems weird.” Ben shakes his head and moves passed them to start grinding coffee beans.

“Uh… She’s a great person. We love her. We just get exasperated sometimes. At first, it was really cool. Look, we got this friend who travels around the world. Isn’t she great? But after a while your lives are just so radically different that it gets a tad tougher to connect. You’ve been dating a guy for four years and she’s never dated anyone more than a few weeks.”

“Dude, Matt doesn’t count. They only texted him on a dating app,” contests Poe.

“I can’t just say she’s not dated. Isn’t that rude or something?”

“It’s the truth. She never lets anyone in enough to date. Hell, sometimes I swear she’s lying about her past. We’re supposed to be her best friends, and she won’t even tell us if she had a childhood pet or the names of her parents?” rambles Poe. 

“Um… I just want some coffee. Could you please pause this conversation for another ten minutes?”

“Oh, shit!” exclaims Poe.

“Sorry, it’s just… Well, we love her, but seeing her just makes everything complicated.”

“Yes, I could tell that,” mutters Ben. “How long will she stay here?”

“She’s not sure. She said maybe a month or two,” answers Finn.

“She really doesn’t like to give straight answers, huh?”

“Not really,” sighs Finn. 

At first, Ben envisioned sleeping peacefully in a quiet hotel room for a week or so and just demanding his roommates clean his sheets after she used his room. He’d practically smiled at the thought of some privacy from the judging glares of Poe and the kicked puppy glances of Finn. His hand tightened into a fist as he glared at the coffee machine. He could afford a week at a hotel; he couldn’t justify a whole month. 

Sighing, Ben looks down at his phone and clicks on Instagram. God, his roommates are fucking weird. Ben thinks back to his college days almost wistfully; he never thought he’d miss Hux. Ben could manage the needlessly competitive, control-freak ginger. Finn and Poe just leave him fumbling around on jelly-legs like some toddler. 

Curiosity licks at his tongue and he finds himself clamping his mouth shut to avoid asking more about this enigmatic girl. Finn and Poe mentioned her traveling a lot; she’s probably one of those shallow, travel bloggers who just flounces around from five-star hotel to five-star hotel and never looks passed her privilege. He snorts to himself. Pouring the aromatic beverage into his cup, Ben leans against the counter and observes Finn and Poe hunched over this Ikea monstrosity. Watching them huddle over the instructions and reaching around for pieces stirs memories from his past. He glares down at his coffee and rushes back to his room before these visions of the past eclipse his present. 

After slumping back onto his bed and kicking aside the black duvet, Ben stares down at his phone. Rey_from_Nowhere’s status shows a French flag, followed by a Belgian one, then a German one, the Swiss flag, and ultimately an apple. Ben laughs and flips onto his stomach. He starts glancing through the photos he prepped to post on Instagram. She’s coming to his city. 

His chest warms and his mind wanders to: idyllic walks though Central Park with cameras and coffees in hand; cozy evenings in the corner of his favorite Italian restaurant with glasses of wine and mischievous smiles; nights cuddling on the couch with hot chocolate and her head resting on his shoulder. At this point, Ben resorts to pinching himself. Swearing, he shakes his head to dislodge the childish daydreams. They cling like glue traps to the backs of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben's POV! I hope you all like it. My writing style shifted a little to try and mimic the different ways that our two protagonists see the world. 
> 
> Ben's really being a softie in this story. At first, I planned to have him be more angsty, but the character has just sorta run away from me and he's turned out sweeter than planned. Still, Ben usually acts like a softie around Rey, so I'm justifying this to myself and letting the story develop organically. lol.
> 
> Thanks for everyone who has commented! It really helps. I don't have a lot of confidence in my writing, so I cherish your comments and they motivate me to keep posting this, instead of just writing it and leaving it on my computer. 
> 
> Warning, I have no beta and my English is a tad rusty. ( I am a native speaker, but I don't talk with a lot of other native speakers that often, so some stuff is slipping. It's weird, but a great excuse for shitty writing! lol)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter will describe childhood abuse and rape. If that is potentially triggering, then I advise you to stop reading after the line about drowning in the memories of her past and start reading again on the section that starts "Two men and a woman stand in the doorway".

As the plane takes off, Rey watches the suburbs of Paris transform into dollhouses. Her breathing hitches and she clutches onto the armrest. She tells herself that she’s just taking another trip, but her stomach flips and her breathing grows more shallow. The lady sitting next to her stares at Rey and looks perplexed. Her eyebrows crinkle and she tastes the words on her tongue. 

“Are you scared of flying?”

“N-No.” Rey pushes the words through her teeth. Rey adores flying. Usually when she strides onto an airplane, Rey closes her eyes and cherishes that weightless moment of take-off. However, this time the knowledge of her destination drags her down and plants her firmly in her chair. She struggles to tame her breathing. 

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Fuck… She can’t breathe. Rey struggles to taste the air, to feel the oxygen filling her lungs. Instead, cold fear tears through her. Her vision fills with vibrating black and white dots. She grits her teeth. Think of Leia. Recall Finn, Poe, and Rose. Remember Chewie. 

She tries to imagine the feeling of Chewie’s curly, brown hair; instead, she feels calloused hands rubbing against her thighs and a forceful kick parting her legs. She hears that maniacal squeal of laughter and the clink of a glass. No! No! Decades past, but the images remain. They taunt her. 

These hated snapshots of her past tease her. Rey tastes copper. She forces her eyes open and looks out the window. One hand traces the raised skin that twists along her left hip bone like a rose vine. Just another nightmare. Just another scar. 

The flight attendant leans over and waves her hand in front of Rey’s face. She blinks and tries to focus on the tall, blond woman speaking to her. Rey only hears a chorus of baritone grunts and soprano laughter. She bites her cheek and forces a smile.

The attendant offers her a water and hesitates with her hand outstretched before rushing off to help one of her associates. Rey nods and takes a frantic sip. Internally, she flounders in the memories that threaten to drown her.   
… 

A brunette woman with knife-sharp cheek bones, yellow rimmed eyes, and arms dyed black and blue swings and swaggers across the room. She clutches a bottle of amber liquid to her chest and twirls towards Rey. Rey’s young mind flickers back to her worn-out ballerina doll and how it flops, boneless when she tries to make it dance. 

Her mom reaches into her pocket and tugs out a carton of those terrible, burning sticks. Rey struggles to her feet, but her mom pushes her down. Rey tastes the salt of her tears and bites her lip. The white and tan cigarette flickers with flame. The brunette laughs. 

The cigarette draws closer and Rey kicks and grunts. Her foot connects with something solid and Rey scrambles to get back to safety. She shouldn’t have left her room, but her stomach keeps stabbing her and the world teeters and twirls like when she’s played on the tire-swing too long. Sharp nails tear into Rey’s shoulder. She holds back her scream. The clumsy hands rip Rey’s shirt off and Rey shrieks. 

For a few blissful seconds, the world turns white. Then Rey regains feeling and the familiar freezing-hot burn reminds Rey of a wolf tearing away at her skin.   
…   
Rey sits curled up in the corner of her closet. She hears voices and covers her mouth to muffle her cries. Crash! Her white door cracks. A thick leg hovers in the air. A wall of a man forces his way into the room. Rey hears the laughter of her mother echoing through the apartment. She clutches her knobby knees and closes her eyes.

She imagines herself on an island. No one can touch her there. She starts to count the coconuts in the trees on her island. She hears a door creak open. Her eyes open and she notes his blood-shot eyes and pungent breath. Something gleams in his eyes and it makes Rey’s stomach churn. She shivers and tries to run. 

He grabs her match-stick arms and pulls her onto the bed she shares with her mother. Rey kicks and kicks, but he doesn’t stop. A wave of pain leaves Rey shuddering. She sees red. She feebly kicks out, but her feet feel like cement. As his hands wander, Rey closes her eyes and pictures herself on an island.   
…  
Two men and a woman stand in the doorway. Rey pokes her head out from behind her mother’s hip. One of the men looks at her and waves. Rey’s mind blanks. She envisions blood-shot eyes and heavy hands. She shrieks. A hand covers her mouth, but Rey twists and churns. She kicks. Rey hears shuffling. She peeks through her eyelashes. 

One of the men crosses his arms and glares at her mother. The black woman reaches down and tries to coax Rey from her mother’s side. Rey glances between the two, before leaping into the woman’s arms.   
…   
God, coming back to the States summons all of Rey’s ghosts. She laughs bitterly and glances down at her hands. Foster care should have ended her nightmares; instead, it began a new chapter of misery. 

She closes her eyes and imagines an island. She pictures herself swimming alongside two turtles, she breaches for a breath, but then Rey is dragged under by the rip-tide of memory. She fights against the constant pull for the remainder of the flight.   
…   
Ben twists the keys between his fingers before unlocking the door. He hears a chorus of laughter. Hitching his shoulders up, he tries to rush passed the trio and into the sanctuary of his room. Then Poe’s fingers dig into his shoulder and he grimaces and twists about to glare at his pesky roommates. 

He spots her sitting on the couch, petting BB. He inhales and breathes her in: sharp cheek bones, rosebud lips, sunlight-streaming-through-the-forest eyes, a splattering of freckles against honey skin. His knees weaken and he sinks into a mismatched loveseat. She blinks up at him and smiles. 

Ben feels the tips of his ears warm. The world seems to shift and waver like waves in the sea. Breathe! Damnit. He gasps and it feels like he just swam for miles. Her brows crinkle and she eyes him with a glimmer of curiosity. His heart beats against his chest. He gulps. 

“It is you.”

“What?”

“… um… your blog.”

“Oh, do you follow it?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, this is my first time meeting someone who reads my blog in person. Is it ok? I tend to ramble.”

“I love it.” 

“Really? Thank you. That’s really sweet. Some of my entries resemble the stuff you’d write in a diary, so I always worry. I’m not good with words.”

“I like it. A lot. Really. Usually bloggers focus on what they did and where they went. You always focus on the people you met and the things you learned. It’s nice. It’s refreshing. Why did you start it?”

God, could he sound like more of an idiot? Her cheeks appear dusted with pink. Ben’s hand itches to grab his camera. 

“It’s so nice to hear that you like it. Um… My blog began as just a way to push myself to post my photos and practice writing, but it turned into a self-improvement project over time. It reminds me of the great people in the world and the love that connects us. I write it hoping that it can give people hope and show them the magic the world has to offer when you look for it.”

Ben swears she shines when she talks. Maybe he could sneak her into Starkiller and beg her to model for a photo shoot? 

“I like your photography. It lacks technique, but its so… honest… and vivid.” Her eyes narrow and her jaw clenches. He needs to learn when to shut up. 

“I like to think that you learn better by just taking more photos.” 

“Sure, that’s a good way to improve, but you have so much talent. If you just had a teacher… You need a teacher”

Her eyes glance down at his camera bag and she looks up at him and smiles. An image of a feline about to pounce flashes across his mind. Ben shivers. 

“I assume you want to be that teacher?”

“I could be.” Her eyes narrow. Ben needs to dig himself out of this mess before he ruins his chances with her. Wait…What does he want with her? 

“I just mean. Um, you have a lot of talent and a great command of color, but sometimes your photos look a little rough and you can tell you had no formal training. You’re actually one of my favorite photographers though. I really like your style. It..um…grows on you.”

She continues to glare at him, but the corners of her eyes soften. 

“Want a beer?”

“I don't drink,” she spits. 

“Coffee?”

“Ok.” Ben kicks open the fridge and grabs one of his beers. He takes a swig and starts grinding the beans for her. He hears Finn mutter into her ear.

“Did he just offer you a beer?”

“Yeah, so?” 

Poe starts laughing and Ben clutches the counter. 

“Ben never shares his beers. He nearly bit our heads off when we drank a few a couple weeks ago.”

“You never asked,” Ben grunts.

The room grows hushed and Ben wants to bang his head against the kitchen cabinets. He needs to just shut up. He grabs her mug of coffee and strides across the room. She’s sitting alone on the couch, while Finn and Poe now cuddle on the loveseat Ben vacated only a few minutes ago. 

Usually annoyance would flicker in his chest, but Ben swears he wants to hug his PDA obsessed roommates. He slides onto the sofa and hands her the chipped yellow mug that he picked for her. She looks up at him and smiles again.

Some nameless emotion flickers across her eyes and Ben’s throat clenches. His arms jerk and he smothers the desire to wrap her in a hug. Her fingers graze his when she takes the mug from his hands; despite barely touching, it leaves him shivering. She feels like ice. He throws her a blanket. 

“Thanks. I’m sorry about earlier. You were probably trying to be nice. I’m just tired.” 

“You had a long flight. Maybe I shouldn’t be giving you coffee?” Ben chuckles. She shakes her head.

“No! No, I should stay awake.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yes,” she tenses and it reminds him of a caged animal. Shouldn’t Finn or Poe be asking her these questions? She’s freezing cold and seems shaken. Another reason to hate his roommates, Ben sighs. 

“Could I look at some of your recent pics? Maybe we could compare editing tips?”

“Sure, I’d like that.” She starts rummaging through her stained canvas backpack. Ben reaches for his camera bag and takes out his Nikon. He strokes it mindlessly. 

“Will I get to see some of your photos?” She asks. 

“This one just has some stuff from work. It’s nothing I’m particularly proud of. Just shots of models and accessories.” 

“Ok, but you’ll have to show me some of your work someday.”

“Someday,” he nods.

"We could go scavenging together, if you want?”

“Scavenging?”

“Um… it’s my nickname for running around the city taking photos.”

“I’d like that.” 

“Then we will.” She laughs and sips her coffee. An ebony bead of the liquid sits on her lip like dew. Ben almost reaches out, but instead gestures to his own lip and blushes. Her tongue darts out and she licks away the drop of coffee. He gulps.   
…  
Rey shivers and wraps the scarlet knit blanket around herself like a shawl. Biting her lip, she tries to shrug off the nightmares that plagued her the entire flight back. She grimaces and looks up at the others. Her eyes meet those of Finn and Poe’s odd roommate and she stifles her laughter.

In the weeks leading up to her arrival, Finn had warned her about a silent and angry, looming presence that haunted the apartment. He had described Ben like some would a poltergeist. Poe had just chipped in details about broken plates and slammed doors. Rey had braced herself for awkward encounters, misplaced rage, and grunted replies. Instead, she finds a man practically tripping over himself to make her comfortable. 

Shaking her head, she looks down at her coffee and back up at the enigmatic photographer. His eyes remind her of the coffee she now clutches in her hands. He has charmingly mismatched features and Rey fights off her urge to start photographing him. He just has such a photogenic face: a proud and noble nose, plush pink lips, constellations of black moles, and eager ears that stick out in a way that reminds her of an excited puppy, all framed by ebony waves. Maybe she’ll ask to take his photo later. It might distract her. 

Odd though, neither Finn nor Poe told her that their roommate shared her line of work; although judging by their shocked expressions, they must not have realized. Her brows crinkle. She inspects his camera bag again. Yep, it has the standard rectangular shape. She wonders how they never connected the dots. A small voice in the back of her mind reminds her that people rarely look that closely; instead, they project their ideas onto the world and call it reality. Rey snorts to herself. 

Ben stares up at her with a quirked brow and she drags herself out of her musings and daydreams. Finn and Poe long gave up on talking to her when she gets like this, but apparently Ben wants to try. She slouches against the back of the sofa, and turns to him. 

“How did you get interested in photography?” she asks. 

“I needed an outlet. I had… So much rage… So much frustration… And, I just wanted to be seen. To be remembered. To force people to notice me and to care. My… ah… Uncle is a photographer, so my parents shipped me off to live with him. I resisted at first, but eventually I started to really enjoy it.” 

He finishes with a grimace and one of his hands tightens into a fist.

Rey notes the flames of pain in his eyes. Then she sees something else there, and it calls to her. 

“You're so lonely.”

“So are you,” he answers solemnly. 

Rey blanches at his remark and leans away from him. He edges towards her to regain the distance. Rey’s instincts scream at her and her breath grows shallow. She tries to force a smile, but his features flicker into shock. He noticed. 

“I didn’t realize. Sorry,” he leans away and Rey starts to breathe more easily. 

“It’s alright. It’s not you. I just like my personal space.” He nods and his brows furrow. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t be afraid to just tell me.” He looks down at himself and gestures to his hands and chest. “I’m quite big. I forget my size sometimes.” 

“You’re kind of like a big puppy, huh?”

“What? No!” Both of them just laugh and his shoulders loosen and he relaxes into the couch. Finn and Poe finally seem to shake out of their collective trance and their eyes flitter between Rey and Ben curiously. 

“Um… What just happened?” Asks Finn. Rey looks back at Ben. His features have tightened and a film of clinical coolness covers the fire in his eyes. She wants to tear off this mask and show her friends the man behind it, but she just grins and teases Finn instead. 

“You both missed a miracle, peanut,” she laughs. 

“I see a miracle every time I look into my boyfriend’s eyes,” Poe smirks. 

“Ugh, I’m going to bed,” Ben growls. Rey’s hand reaches out, but she tucks it back and pretends to pick at the fabric of the couch instead. 

“Night,” she says. 

“Good night, Rey,” he replies. She shivers. Her name on his lips feels like a cozy evening in front of the fireplace. The sound of his door shutting jerks her back. 

“So, you just tamed the beast,” laughs Poe.

“Can you stay permanently?” asks Finn. “Please, he’s never been so normal,” he begs.

“Yeah, I could tolerate him like this,” nods Poe. 

“He acted like a man,” mutters Finn.

“It was…”

“Crazy…” finishes Poe. 

“No, a miracle.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know he could talk that much.”

“It’s crazy,” Finn nods to himself and glances up at Rey with awe.

“Maybe he just refuses to talk to anyone besides other photographers?” he muses. 

“Art snob,” spits Poe. 

“He should have told us,” agrees Finn.

“Did either of you ever ask?” questions Rey.

“No…But… We’re roommates! We should know this stuff,” exclaims Finn. 

“Well, he certainly didn’t seem like a beast to me. You both made him out to be some sort of monster. He seems perfectly nice. And honestly, how could you not tell he’s a photographer? His camera bag isn’t exactly subtle. It even has a Nikon logo. Besides, if you both show this much public affection, he might just feel awkward,” Rey says. 

“Do you think he’s one of those anti-homo bastards?” asks Poe. His hands tighten into fists. 

“No!” Rey sighs, “I just meant that some people don’t want to return to their apartment after a long day of work and then watch their roommates dry humping on the communal couch.” 

Rey gestures to Finn’s hand tracing patterns on Poe’s inner thigh. Finn blushes and looks away. Poe nods slowly. 

“I mean, I don’t mind. I’m just a guest and I love you both. But… But he seems a tad shy. You both can be a bit intimidating, especially when you become wrapped up in each other.” 

“We tried to invite him to hang out and get to know us. Finn practically knocked on his bedroom door every night with an invitation. The guy didn’t even talk. He just gestured to his computer.” Rey buries her head in her hands and sighs. 

“He was probably working.”

“How? He was at home on his computer. I thought our roommate was one of those anime freaks or something.” 

“Poe, he’s just said he’s a photographer. He was probably editing photos or something.” 

“But it was after work hours. He was home.”

“Come on, Poe. You are not that obtuse. You’re just being stubborn.” Rey reaches for her phone and clicks open her Instagram. She searches through her DMs until she finds the photo of two clasped hands she sent a few weeks ago. She points to the picture and glances up at Finn and Poe’s confused faces. 

“This one photo took me two hours of editing.”

“What?” exclaims Finn. 

“I’ll admit that I probably could have edited it faster, but there were just a few pesky lighting details that I just couldn’t quite get right.” 

“But… That took two hours?” asks Poe. 

“I was being a perfectionist, but yes. Photography takes time. Everyone has different methods, but still it takes time. On scavenging days, I average around 2,000 to 3,000 photos. I take even more if I go out at night for long-exposure shots as well. For every photo I post, I’ve usually taken at least twenty or so with only minor differences in the exposure time, width of the frame, and angle. Plus, you got to factor in the time it takes to choose which photos you want to post, then editing… Photography takes time… And a ton of storage.” Rey pants and glares at them both.

Finn and Poe’s blithe attitude towards photography incises her. She holds herself back from asking if they both just think she lazes about each day. Rey shouldn’t start picking fights with her hosts on the first night.

Besides, nowadays people just snap photos with their iPhones and claim their photos rival professionals. She thought her friends would try harder to understand her passion and profession. She bites her lip and pictures her island. 

“Rey, we’re sorry. It just looks so easy and seems so glamourous. You’re always flying around the world and constantly posting pictures. We’re happy for you, but when you’re worried about paying bills and debating going back to the corporate world, then your life seems simple and picturesque. You’re like a living, breathing advertisement or something!” rants Poe.

“You don’t read my blog, do you?”

“What? Of course we do! Sometimes… We just get busy. Besides, what does that have to do with this?” asks Finn. 

“Just…” She sighs, “I talked about some of this stuff. Some of the hardships. I may post pretty pictures, but not all the memories are nearly as nice,” she spits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your sweet comments. This was a painful chapter to write, but sadly so many individuals are sexually harassed and abused. 
> 
>  
> 
> I like to think that fiction can be a way of drawing attention to issues within our society, and (while I'm not writing Booker Prize stuff here) I hope that by displaying some of the mannerisms of a survivor here, people can grow more aware and try to help those around them who are hurting.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments and support. I hope you enjoyed the official meeting between Rey and Ben. 
> 
> I feel bad for poor Finn and Poe... They are sweethearts, but this story has sorta accentuated how (if they ended up dating) they could tend to get wrapped up in each other.


	5. Chapter 5

Ben creaks the door open and peeks into the living room. He notes the dim glow of a laptop and sighs with relief. 

“Hey.” 

She turns and the fear in her eyes freezes his veins. She looks like a caged rabbit, tensing to bounce away. 

“I don’t have work tomorrow. I could show you around the city, if you want?” 

“Ok.”

“I could show you one of my favorite places right now?”

She looks around and cocks an eyebrow. 

“It’s not far.” He props open his door and points to the fire escape. She untangles herself from the blankets and strides forward. He stands in the doorway, trying to appear polite and composed. Internally, an alarm roars and Ben struggles to think amidst the chaos. 

He blinks. He gulps. She walks passed him and he tries to place her scent: it reminds him of sunlight with a hint of tangy mint, sharp lemon, and the earthy scent of growing plants.

He struggles to understand how anyone can smell like sunlight, but Rey seems to embody light itself. She shines. While her hands freeze his fingers, her smile defrosts his heart. It terrifies him. 

He’s been communicating with her for months now behind his carefully polished and poised persona. Critics praise his alter ego. The world respects Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren never lost a single photography competition before the whole Takodana affair.

For years, Snoke has groomed and delighted in the advancement of Kylo Ren. The man even offered to help Ben legally change his name, but Ben’s childish sentimentality fuels his continued rejection of Snoke’s offers. 

Now, Rey is meeting shy Ben Solo, not confident Kylo Ren. No one wanted Ben Solo before. His own parents treated him like a trophy; they took him off the shelf to show off to guests, then carefully tucked him away and promptly forgot him. Ben desperately wants Rey to like him, not the mask, but the man. 

A bitter laugh bubbles from his chest and Ben shakes his head. He’ll give himself this night with her. He’ll resurrect the weakened Ben Solo, and banish Kylo Ren to the internet. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll explain.

After she… After she what? Ben’s heart flutters in his chest like an eager bird. He knows how the sentence ends, but what is the point in admitting it to himself? She could barely stand him leaning towards her. How could she? No, no one could love Ben Solo. Who would want someone so fragile? So broken. 

Shaking his head, he stomps out his campfire dreams and grabs his duvet. She shivers on the steel fire escape. The city lights reflect in her eyes; he notes flecks of gold in the depths of her irises. He shuffles onto the fire escape and passes her the duvet. 

She eyes him wearily, takes it, and then offers him the excess fabric. He sinks down next to her. She flinches, but doesn’t move away. If Ben focuses, he can feel her breathe shifting the duvet that surrounds them like a cocoon. 

“In our hubris, we try to compete with the stars,” he gestures to the glittering lights of skyscrapers surrounding them. 

“Then we’re even shitter artists than I realized,” She replies and giggles. God, Ben should have taken a video or something. He wants to hear her giggle again. He could become addicted to that sound. 

“Most of us, but you got potential.” She quirks a brow and stares at him. 

“I mean… Um… you could… never mind,” he mutters. 

“What?”

“You could compete with the stars.” Oh God, he sounds even cheesier than Poe! How is that possible? Ben avoids his roommates at all costs, but even he noticed how melodramatic Poe constantly spews shit that belongs in a Hallmark card. His face warms. She reaches out, then pulls back.

“No, its ok. I don’t mind.” She blinks at him and then slowly reaches for the tip of his right ear. 

“Even your ears turned pink!” 

“Oh God… Um… Just forget that. I… I can’t speak.”

“Odd, you seem capable of speech so far.” 

“Smartass…” he laughs, “You know what I mean. Um… I just meant that you could photograph the night sky well. It would suit your style.” 

“Nice save.” 

“Thanks. I try,” he chuckles. 

“Usually you fail.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re actually quite mean?” 

“One guy.”

“Wait…Really? Who? Why?”

“Oh, just some guy.”

“Who?”

“Well, this guy who made an embarrassing statement on a fire escape.”

“Oh… Wait… You mean me?”

“No, the other guy I’m sitting on a fire escape with. Of course you! You certainly aren’t the brightest thing, are you?” 

“It’s hard when I’m being compared with you. Most of us would seem dull in comparison.”

“Gosh, there you go again,” she laughs, “You’re such an oxymoron.” 

“Not really.”

She just quirks her brow and shakes her head. 

“Okay, fine. I might be a tad oxymoronic occasionally. Mainly, I’m just a monster.” 

“I don't think you’re a monster.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Pain produces beautiful art. Who wouldn’t take to twisting the knife in his heart for the sake of recognition?” 

“Passion produces meaningful art. Not all of it has to be painful. Most of my photos share the love of this world. Not all love stories end happily, but they each have at least one blissful moment of satisfaction.” 

“How often can you find love and this happy passion you seek though? Besides, it all becomes cliché eventually. All happy families are the same, and all that Tolstoy crap,” sneers Ben.

“I like Tolstoy, but that’s bullshit. Happiness… You can’t recreate it. There is no formula that you can follow and… Bam! Happiness. Happiness… It is always shifting and changing. All you can do is try to create a place within yourself with the right conditions for it to grow. The conditions to become happy vary from person to person and they even change within yourself. No one’s happiness is the same. All the stuff that claims otherwise is bullshit.” 

“Slandering Tolstoy? I think my university literature professor would have a heart attack.” 

“Those Russian winters made him bitter,” she retorts. “Oh God, that was a joke. Russia is a gorgeous country with a rich  
culture.”

“I know.”

“You know I’m right? Good, looks like you’re learning.”

“No, I know you were joking. I like the sound of your hippie bullshit though. Maybe if I were younger you’d have converted me.  
Now, I’m an old man too stuck in his ways. I’ve walked this path too long to change now.”

“It’s never too late.”

“That’s a lie,” he retorts

“No,” she says.

“It is. I built a career on the foundation of my pain. I carved my pain into palaces. How could I just tear all of that down?”

“You don’t need to tear it down. Artists change. You can too.” 

“But you see, I don’t have it in me to change. I don’t have… I’m not… I’m not you. I’m not bright and shining. I’m just a  
miserable man who wrings out his torment like a dishtowel for a few measly drops of talent. Without the pain, I am nothing.” 

Ben’s fists clench and he steals a glimpse at her. She stares straight back, straight into his eyes and he swears she’s reading his thoughts. When her frozen fingertips touch his, a jolt of electricity runs through Ben. He shivers. He craves more. Her hazel eyes lock into his sable ones. He can’t fight against the pull of her light. 

“Ben, I may not have seen your work yet, but I assure you that both it and you are far from nothing. You don’t need to hurt yourself like this. Please, you can’t continue down this path. You’ll only harm yourself and those around you.” 

“It’s a good thing I’m alone then,” he laughs sardonically. 

“You’re not alone.”

“Neither are you,” he answers instinctually. He saw flickers of loneliness in her eyes earlier, and he notes them there again. Ben  
struggles to fathom how someone could leave Rey alone. He cannot understand how so much loneliness radiates from a being who shines as brightly as her.  
…  
Rey leans against the rough brick wall and continues to observe Ben. A symphony of feelings plays in his eyes. Finn called the man emotionless and callous. She sees the opposite. 

Ben seems desperate just for a kind glance and a pat on the back; yet he pushes the world away out of some fear of rejection and pain, not pride and disinterest. She doesn’t yet understand him, but she wants to. He’s her oxymoron.

Rey’s hand seeks out Ben’s own. Their fingers graze one another’s and instead of a racing heartbeat and billowing lungs, Rey feels warmth. She blinks. How? Rey skims through memories of previous touches with a cast of characters. Besides Han’s hugs, Rey always flinches away from any sort of touch.

But… the weight of his fingers intertwined with her own only summons a smile. They sit like this for what feels like both hours and mere seconds. She scooches closer and rests her head on his shoulder. He stiffens, then relaxes. Some unknown feeling passes over Rey. She closes her eyes and relishes it. Rey would stop running just to continue to experience this feeling again.  
…  
A gentle shaking awakens Rey. The unexpected contact sends a jolt through her system and she shrieks. Then the clouds of sleep clear from her vision and she sees Ben’s coffee eyes. The shrieking stops. Rey blushes. She looks out at the constellations of light in the inverted sky. 

“Sorry,” she whispers. 

“No, it’s… um… probably my fault. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Ben says with such sweet sincerity shining through his eyes that Rey’s hand reaches numbly for the phone in her back pocket. She snaps a photo. Ben blinks. 

“That’s not fair,” he chuckles. 

“Nothing’s fair,” she taunts. Oddly unshaken by his arm laying across her shoulders. Instead of feeling like the bars of her personal prison, his arm reminds her of a blanket. 

“I should get to take a photo of you then,” he teases.

“Not going to happen,” she retorts.

“Why not?”

“I’m meant to be behind a camera, not in front of it,” she mutters. 

“I disagree.”

“We already established you aren’t the brightest.”

“I got a sense for these things,” he insists. 

“Hmm… I guess your photographer senses are failing you then.”

“I don’t think so. Not this time.” He looks so earnest, so sure. Rey’s heart aches. 

“I should probably be going to bed,” she forces out. 

“Yeah, me too,” he mutters and looks away, before continuing, “So, about tomorrow…”

“Do you want me to set an alarm?” she asks. 

“No! um… No, you just had a long flight. I… uh… figured that we could just head out after you wake up,” he stutters. 

“Ok, so breakfast at the flat, then a day of wandering the streets?”

“I know a place, for breakfast.” God, his face looks like a crimson sunset. 

“That may add up. Maybe we should just eat here?” she urges. 

“I’ll pay.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, as a welcome to the city thing?”

“Okay. You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. Please.” 

“Alright, but next time it’s my treat,” she decides. 

“Next time?” he asks. He perks up and it reminds her of Chewie when Han whistled for his favorite mutt to get in the car. 

“You know… When you visit a city and I show you around.”

“I… I could get a Rey tour?”

“Of course. We’re… friends.” The word falls off her tongue with an odd weight and hangs in the air like the bittersweet notes of a violin. 

“Good night!” She mutters and rushes back to the safety of the sofa. 

“Sweet dreams, Rey,” Ben answers. Rey’s face warms and she jerkily nods. Why is her heart hammering like this? It feels oddly… pleasant.  
…  
Rey awakens to the scent of coffee and the sound of Finn and Poe’s chatter. The lovebirds glance at her as she shimmies off the couch. Finn elbows Poe. 

“Morning,” Poe exclaims. Rey nods dully and shuffles towards the coffee machine. Finn pours her a cup and turns back to his omelet. 

“So, last night was… interesting,” Poe continues. 

“Yeah, what did you do to Ben?” asks Finn. 

Rey sighs, “Honestly, you both keep acting like I did something amazing. We just talked. You both were there.” 

“That’s the thing though. You talked,” insists Poe.

“So?”

“Ben doesn’t talk,” explains Poe.

“No, he glares, grunts, or swears,” Finn says.

“Well, he seemed capable of speech last night. We already talked about this. Can I just drink my coffee without being interrogated?” “Fine,” sighs Poe.

“Peanut, we’re sorry we couldn’t take the day off. Everything’s been hectic at work lately. Poe has this really high profile case, and Rose and I are trying to organize a series of charity events,” Finn rambles. 

“It’s no problem. I didn’t expect you guys to take time off work. Besides… I already have plans.” “What?” asks Poe.

“A friend is showing me around the city.”

“Who? Rose has work too,” asks Finn. 

“Dear, are you talking about Chewie?” Poe looks at her with a hint of pity in his chocolate eyes. 

“Hey, Chewie is a friend! That is so rude.”

“I’m all about loving pets. BB’s our surrogate child, but… I wouldn’t call walking Chewie having a friend show you the city…” laughs Poe. 

“I’m seeing Chewie tomorrow. Leia and I already talked about this. He’s going to the groomer today. But… seriously? I have friends!”

“Yes, you have Finn, Rose, and I.”

“I have plenty of other friends,” she insists. 

“The people you talked to once at a hostel don’t count,” states Poe.

“They sort of do. Sometimes we meet up again during trips.”

“Peanut… No…” sighs Finn. 

“Anyway, I have plenty of friends.”

“Yeah, give us proof,” says Poe. 

“Ok, fine!” Rey reaches for her phone. The screen stares blankly back and she curses herself for forgetting to charge the damn thing last night. Then she rushes to her backpack and pulls out her laptop. She swirls and plants it on the table next to Finn’s plate. After logging into Instagram, she loads up her chat history with Kylo_Ren. 

“Here, this is proof.”

“Rey… What is this? I don’t get it. How are a series of photos proof of anything?” asks Poe.

“It’s everything.”

“Peanut… I don’t understand either,” mutters Finn. 

“The photos, they are the conversation.”

“How?” asks Finn.

“Is this some weird artist thing?” asks Poe.

“Poe, it isn’t a weird artist thing… I mean, the messages are obvious!”

“Well, I’m looking at this, and all I see is Central park,” Poe remarks.

“No! It is a welcome to New York City message.”

“… How?” Poe asks. 

“See, the sunlight streaming through the leaves conveys this feeling of warmth and discovery. The wildflowers in the corner there represent his surprise and pleasure. While he chose Central park because it is a well-known landmark. Not to mention, this photo is uncharacteristic of his usual style… Actually, it is more similar to my own, I’d say… Which implies that he’s trying to adjust his habits in order to better introduce to the city to me.”

“I still just see a pretty photo of Central Park. Honey, I think you’re reading too much into this. And, you never talked. You just sent some photos. They don’t really mean anything. You don’t know anything about this Kylo_Ren person,” lectures Poe. 

“But I know a lot. He’s a cocky, sarcastic, and inventive night owl who pushes people away, despite actually being desperate to connect with someone. He hides behind this mask, but he’s actually really sweet and observant.”

“That sounds great, but I think you’re just imaging things. You can’t tell all of that from some photos,” insists Poe. 

“But I can. It’s right there.” 

“How?”

“Look, most of his photos are long-exposure night pics, so he’s a night owl and he’s probably very passionate and patient when it comes to photography, since he has to stand around in the cold waiting for each long-exposure pic. His usual style focuses on reflections and illusions, so he’s trying to push people away and distract them from looking too closely. But…” 

She zooms in on one picture in particular. “Sometimes he allows the faintest hint of his reflection to peep back. He’s too good at what he does for that to be an accident, so he wants to be understood. Plus, his first picture conveyed a sense of unity, so he wants to connect with people. But…” she goes to his picture of the bridge, “He has been hurt in the past and is scared. As for the sarcasm… That’s a constant. He’s constantly mocking the world and people within it. I mean… Look at this!” She gestures to the first photo she ever liked. 

“Ok, I think you need to get laid,” states Poe. 

“Sorry, peanut, but this really doesn’t make sense.” 

Rey sighs, “Never mind.”

“We love you though!” insists Finn.

Rey just stares down at her coffee and nods.  
…  
Ben prowls back and forth in his bedroom. He clutches his cellphone and stokes his bravery. One call and he’ll get the whole day to spend with Rey. He just needs to make this call. Finally, he smashes the call button and waits.

“What, Ben?”

“I’m sick. I won’t be coming to work today.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m sick. I can’t make it to work.” 

Hux scoffs, “Yeah right. You never take a day off.”

“Usually, I have a good immune system.”

“Ben, did anyone ever tell you that you’re a shitty liar?”

“I’m sick. I have days for sick leave. I’m using one… or two.”

“Bull.”

“Hux, I said I’m sick. Just accept it and let me go back to bed.”

“Come on, Ben. I’ve known you for six years now. You’ve never taken a day off work. Phasma and I had to drag you to the  
hospital once, and you still kept muttering about some photo shoot. Is this… Is this about that Instagram girl?” 

“No…”

“Ok, so yes,” laughs Hux. “Did you finally talk to her?”

“We’ve been talking.”

“You know what I mean!” 

“Photos work,” Ben insists. 

“Yes, but photos don’t exactly give her your phone number, do they? Wait… could they? Did you?”

“No.”

“Ok, then how are you spending the day with her?”

“I never said I was spending the day with her.”

“Ah, so you’re hoping she’ll spend the night over as well?”

“You are insufferable.”

“I know. It’s part of my charm.”

“I don’t know what Phasma sees in you.”

“Neither do I.”

“We finally agree on something,” states Ben.

“Don’t tell her. She’ll get too smug and call us her boys again,” Hux laughs. “Anyway, how are you spending the day with your mysterious Instagram crush?”

“It’s not a crush,” Ben growls.

“Infatuation? Obsession? Internet stalking? Crush is the nicest term I can muster.”

“Since when have you been nice?”

“Phasma decided it should be my New Year’s Resolution…”

“And you’ve kept it up?”

“She… has a nice reward system.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to picture it. Please shut up.”

“You’re just jealous because you aren’t getting any.”

“Phas is like a sister. I don’t want any.”

“Don’t deflect. You know what I mean.”

“If I tell you, then you got to give me the week off.”

“You and I both know Snoke would never let me do that.”

“Even if you said I was in the hospital or something?”

“Please, he’d check and when you weren’t checked into a hospital he’d have my head.”

“Fine. Three days. Minimum.”

“I’ll try to weasel four out of him, but you better pretend to feel miserable when you come back.”

“You just said I’m a shit liar.”

“You are.”

“Then why?”

“Because I’ve never seen you smile like that before.”

“Phasma’s really making you turn soft.”

“Odd, I’d say the opposite. She usually makes me hard.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“Hey, I’m putting my neck on the line to give you four blissful days with your Instagram girl. You can put up with a few jokes.” 

“Thanks, Hux.”

“You're welcome, idiot.” 

“Call me an idiot again and I’ll get you fired.”

“Just shut up and go find your girl.”

“She’s here.”

“What?”

“Hux, she’s at my apartment!”

“Well… that was uncharacteristically fast of you.”

“No, not like that…”

“Then… How? Why?”

“Apparently she’s friends with my roommates. She’s sleeping on our couch, Hux.”

“She should be sleeping in your bed…”

“Be serious for one second.”

“Oh, I am.”

“Bullshit.”

“Fine, but this is fucking hilarious. Wait till I tell Phas… She’s going to love this! You know she’s all into destiny and that spiritual stuff.” 

“Please don’t…”

“Don’t back out now. You knew I’d tell Phasma.”

“Fine.”

“Oh, and invite the girl to dinner. Phasma will want to meet her.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“Hux…”

“The mysterious girl who makes emo Ben smile. Come on... It’ll be hilarious.”

“Fine… I’ll ask her.”

“Good, now go and get your girl!”

“Thanks… Nosy ginger.”

“Of course, emo freak.” 

Ben hangs up and smiles. Four days to dedicate to Rey. Ever since they began talking on Instagram, Rey’s ghost has haunted him. She’s trailed behind him as he floats through the day. At first, he ignored her, but lately he’s relished this haunting. 

Usually the people he notices in the corner of his eye when he twists his head a tad too fast only drag him back to the warped slideshow of his past. Now, he envisions the future, and for once it looks bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After last chapter, it's fluff time! I love sassy Hux. He's so fun to write. Plus, it is interesting to compare his friendship with Ben to Rey's friendship with Finn and Poe. Have a nice day! Thank you all for your comments! They mean a lot and fuel my writing.


	6. Chapter 6

Ben sinks back onto the bed and strains to hear the murmuring of conversation through his door. Rey’s velvet voice slips through, and he starts to get up, then he hears Poe’s bass tones. Sighing, Ben slumps. Then curiosity pulls him to the door. He stands there, ear pressed against the wood, struggling to make sense of the conversation.

God, it brings back memories of Han’s harsh tones and Leia’s bitter laughter rising from the living room. During his adolescence, Ben played music so loud his ears would ring for hours afterwards just to cover the sound of his parents fighting. 

People used to tell him that Han and Leia’s passion caused quite the stir in their youth. Ben still wonders why watching a car wreck would make one want to crash as well. 

Sometimes the flames of passion licked the figures of Han and Leia and their raised voices would quiet and their lips would gasp the name of the other; however, usually the two’s fiery personalities only stoked heated debates, slammed doors, and started the tell-tale roar of the Falcon. 

When the flames grew too great and a fire threatened to consume their home, Han would grab Chewie and run. Leia stayed. She may have ignored Ben, but at least she clattered in the kitchen and left little notes explaining her daily agenda.

Ben laughs to himself. His childhood consisted of slammed doors, roaring engines, the scent of grease, an over-loved mutt, and little notes left by the coffee machine. 

The sound of Rey’s frantic voice carries; it reminds him of velvet rubbed the wrong way. God, what is Poe doing this time? Those two idiots claimed to be her friends, yet they kept causing Rey to raise her voice. She’s been in the US less than twenty-four hours. 

Shouldn’t she at least get to have a few calm conversations dedicated to catching up on the uneventful lives of Finn and Poe before those two started judging Rey? Sure, Ben hasn’t actually heard what Finn and Poe have said to her, but he knows how quickly Poe starts glaring at people.

Ben shakes his head and sighs. Another complaint about his roommates to add to his ever-growing list: they are shit friends. She deserves better. She deserves someone who would worship her. 

He’ll make sure to give her the best day she’s ever had in NYC. Maybe… Maybe if Rey particularly enjoys Ben’s walking tour she’ll decide to come back sooner. At the moment, Ben no longer ponders why Rey avoids visiting the United States. He now wonders why she comes back at all. 

Sighing, Ben grabs the door handle. He should shield Rey from the collective idiocy of his roommates. Ben growls and forces the door open. Poe and Finn turn towards him with widened eyes, but Rey just stares glumly at her coffee.

She drinks it black. Ben smiles. He adds this fact to his ever-growing list of similarities between him and Rey. 

He slinks towards Rey and slides into the chair beside her. 

“I just need to shower, then I’ll be ready,” he murmurs. She blinks up at him, then understanding illuminates her eyes. 

“I should probably shower too. I haven’t since Paris,” she groans. 

“You don’t need to.” Ben clamps his mouth shut before he can embarrass himself further. If he actually says that he wants to wake up with her unwashed scent in his nostrils for the rest of his life, then she may call the authorities. 

“Oh, I do.” She twists the end of her braid between thumb and forefinger. 

“You can have the shower first then,” he offers. 

“Thanks.” Rey looks up at him and smiles before taking another sip of her coffee. Ben looks at the beverage, then goes to grab his own. 

“Wait, you said you were walking around with a friend?” asks Poe.

“I am,” Rey states. Ben smiles down at the coffee machine. His heart thumps in his chest. 

“Wait… But… Ben?” exclaims Finn. The poor man jumps up and his chair clatters to the ground. Ben turns and grimaces at his idiot roommates. 

“She needed one decent friend in this apartment,” he spits. 

“Ben, that was uncalled for,” Rey chastises him. 

“What? It’s true. They’ve been terrible. You’re rarely in the states, yet neither bothered to take a sick day and instead of enjoying your company, they’ve just ignored you in favor of each other. They haven’t asked about you and your life, and instead they’ve judged you for every single decision you’ve made so far. Rey, you deserve better.” 

“Ben, you don’t know about our friendship,” Rey states. Her jaw tightens and her eyes flash. 

“No, and I don’t want to! What type of fucked up friendship is that? You show up freezing. You look terrified. You flinch whenever someone gets near you, and yet they never ask about it. I’m not even sure these idiots noticed! They aren’t exactly an observant pair. I heard the fighting when I left. I don’t care what they say about me, but they disrespected your career and they treat you like some child, Rey! You… You are… You deserve… More.” 

“Ben…” Rey sighs. She regards him for a few moments before smiling sadly and shaking her head. 

Ben feels breathless and caught between the desire to continue to fight Poe and Finn or to just grab her hand and rush out the door. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” hisses Poe. Finn rushes to hold him back, but Poe jerks out of his grasp and stomps towards Ben. 

“A concerned friend,” he answers, forcing himself to sound calm. 

“Friend? You barely know Rey! You met her last night. You haven’t had to deal with the shit we’ve put up with. You both share a short conversation and suddenly you think you know everything about her. Just how egocentric are you? You act like you’re her best friend, her knight and protector. Rey doesn’t want any of that! The second you try to get close, she’ll deflect and stop replying. She’s done it to Finn and I hundreds of times. So, why would she want you? You’re just some freak with anger management problems who can barely speak most of the time!” 

Rey grabs Ben’s hand. Ben’s heart slows and his eyes flicker to her. 

“Ben, we should just go.” 

“What? Are you picking his side now?” screams Poe.

“I am not picking sides. We aren’t children,” Rey sighs. 

“Yeah, well it certainly seems like you’re choosing him over us,” spits Poe. Rey flinches. Ben fights the urge to wrap her in his arms. He needs to let Rey initiate the touches, he reminds himself. 

“Poe, we should get to work,” Finn mutters. He strokes his lover’s cheek and glares back at Ben. Ben exhales. Rey squeezes his hand and shakes her head. He nods back and finally pours himself a coffee. The tension falls from his shoulders and he exhales when a door eventually slams shut. 

“I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“Sometimes, having a guest over can instigate arguments. It’s not a surprise.”

“Rey… I still don’t understand why...”

“You haven’t seen them at their best,” she interrupts. 

“I think you’re giving them excuses.”

“Ben… You don’t know them. You barely know me.”

“But I do!”

“Ben…” she sighs, “Ben, I am a terrible friend.” Ben’s arms itch to hug her. Rey continues, “Ben, I…” she sighs and steels herself, before looking back into his eyes. 

“I fly around the world and barely text them. Usually, I take weeks to reply and I almost always avoid discussing anything of actual consequence. Everything Poe said about me is true. Finn has known me for over five years now, and I…” she grits her jaw and looks away from Ben. “I still haven’t told him anything about my past.” 

“A good friend would understand.” 

“They can only be so patient, Ben.”

“I’ll wait.”

“What?”

“I’d wait… I would wait for you to want to tell me, Rey.”

“Ben, you say that now… Wait a decade and tell me that with a straight face.” 

“Okay.”

“What?” she asks.

“Okay, I will tell you that I don’t care about your past a decade from today. I won’t push you. You’ll see. Because, Rey, I… I   
understand having a past you want to forget. There are things I… I have done. There were things done… done to me. The past… is terrifying. I would never force anyone to talk about it. Let the past die; forget it and focus on the future.” 

“Ben, we can’t just kill the past. It shapes us. I might not be ready to face it, but I know that it made me into who I am today… And I might be flawed, but I wouldn’t want to be anyone else either.” 

“But… You are more than just your past, Rey. You are… So much more. We all are… I… I don’t want to just be a byproduct of my past. I have worked hard to make myself better than that… To walk a different path.” 

“You can’t be more than something, if you don’t accept that it had a hand in shaping you. Ben, I… I was broken… Sometimes, I still am. But… I accept that my past influences me, and this acceptance allows me to be better.”

Rey turns away and laughs bitterly, “Every discussion with you is like a philosophy class or something. Can we just go and get breakfast, please?”

“Do you still want that shower?” he asks, desperate to change the subject. Talks about the past just darken his day. 

“Yeah.”

“The bathroom’s down the hall on the left. I got an extra towel.”

“It’s ok. I brought one.”

“You’re a professional guest, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say that… It seems like all I’ve brought are arguments,” she sighs.

Ben rubs his temples and looks away, “I would have fought with Poe eventually. I’m… Not good with people. I… Usually avoid them, but…” he gestures vaguely at the apartment and shrugs. 

She nods. Ben sips his coffee absently. It’s gone cold. He sighs. She shuffles around and he steals glances at her while she’s looking away. 

Her lean, athletic physique reminds him of a gazelle. She carries herself with such grace; it leaves him gasping for breath. Morning light filters through the window and seems to caress her face like a lover. He subtly twists his phone towards her and snaps a few quick photos. 

Smiling, Ben glances down at his work: half of her face appears illuminated in golden rays, while the other half hides in the shadows. She looks like one of those goddesses with multiple personalities.

He examines the photo with a more critical eye. Rey looks gorgeous, of course. With her face, it doesn’t matter which angle or what lighting a photographer uses, she’ll always be beautiful. However, the photo itself actually suits his Instagram account.

The way the shadows and the light bisect her face could represent the duality of humanity and the shifting nature of our masks, Ben muses. After a bit of touch-up, he would definitely want to post this. That means he’ll need to ask her though. 

He sighs. She barely knows Ben Solo. He wants more time with her before she finds out the truth. He wants her to like him.   
He looks up when he hears Rey’s laughter. She shakes her head, as if to ask what she’ll do with him. Then she beckons for him to give her the phone.   
He stands up and shakes his head in a resolute refusal. Ben needs all the photos he can get. When she’s gone, he’ll probably spend hours pouring over each and every picture of Rey he can find. She just has the sort of face Ben wants to see every time he opens his eyes. 

“Show me,” Rey commands. 

“No, what if you delete it?”

“I just want to examine your photography skills. It takes talent to make this face appear decent,” Rey teases. 

“You’d look beautiful even if a toddler took your photo,” Ben grumbles. His face warms and he looks away quickly. 

“Thanks, but flattery will get you nowhere. Give me the phone,” Rey insists. 

“No. You have my picture; I want one of you,” Ben counters. 

“Yes, but you look cute in your picture. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to look awful.”

“You look beautiful. Wait…You think I look cute?”

“What? No!” Rey exclaims. 

“But… You just said…” Could Rey think he looks cute? Ben loathes his hodge-podge of mismatched features. His face reminds him of that Mr. Potato Head toy he had as a boy; it lacks symmetry and any sort of order. 

“Well, you’re like a puppy. Puppies are cute, ergo you too can be cute sometimes,” Rey stutters, while looking away from him. He can’t tell if she’s just teasing him again or means it. 

“Only sometimes?” he jokes. 

“Only sometimes,” she nods and juts out her jaw. 

“Oh…” he sighs. His heart deflating like a week old balloon. “I’m still keeping the photo though,” he says. 

“At least let me have a look,” she begs. 

“You can see it after I post it.”

“No! Please,” she deflates. 

“Too late,” he laughs. 

“What? Really?”

“Nah, you can see it, but you can’t delete it.” He passes her the phone. She blinks for a few seconds, then she squints and stares silently at the photo. Several minutes pass and Ben begins wondering if he should just hop in the shower, instead of anxiously awaiting the verdict. She looks up at him suddenly. 

“It’s beautiful. The symmetry… how the light and shadow divide my face… it’s like a commentary on people in society and how we have this light, social side and this darker, secret side. It almost makes me think of those drama masks. I love it.”

“Wait… Really?”

“Yeah! It reminds me a lot of some of the stuff one of my friends posts. He works in NYC too. You remind me of him sometimes. I think you both would either adore the other or hate one another.”

“Who?” he stutters. 

Ben’s heart hammers in his chest. Shit. He’s not ready for this. He didn’t even get to spend a day with her. She’s too smart. 

“Kylo_Ren. I haven’t met him in person, but we’ve been pen pals for several months now.”

Should he just tell her? Would that be weird? She hasn’t asked him though. But, he just wants one day with her simply as Ben. She barely knows Ben. He wears the mask of Kylo Ren to make it through the day, but he wants Rey to like him without this crutch. 

“I don’t know him. New York is a big city. I… um… mainly work for a magazine. I don’t… um… get to do much of my own stuff.” 

“Oh, that’s too bad. I plan to meet up with him at some point. Maybe I’ll take you with me?” Her eyes sparkle. Is she teasing him? Did she figure it out?

“Sure,” Ben shrugs and shuffles back to his room. “I’ll just get my camera and stuff ready.”

“Oh, ok.” 

Ben hurries to his room and slouches against the door with a sigh.   
…  
Rey leans against the bathroom door. Her mind struggles to process the events of this morning. Ben acted with such rage in front of Finn and Poe, then he deflated into this sweet and loving person the second those two closed the door and abandoned the flat. 

The thought buzzes through her head: Ben treats her differently than others. For some reason, he’s nice to her.   
Earlier, Rey thought Finn just exaggerated when talking about Ben their roommate. Finn tends to artfully stretch the truth in favor of telling an eventful story. Rey assumed that Finn and Poe grew so enraptured with the Ben of Finn’s tales that they forgot about their living and breathing roommate. 

However, the way Ben stood there and snarled with his arms tensed and a wild gleam in his eyes makes Rey realize that Finn and Poe never met the man who handed her a duvet and compared her to the stars. They don’t know the Ben who spends hours tearing himself apart because he believes no one could want him intact. 

But after merely a few hours of conversation, Ben trusts her. He bares his wounds to her and offers balm to ease her own pain. A shiver rolls down Rey’s spine. Ben knows. He looks at her with those coffee eyes, and he sees Rey. He observes the broken girl who duct-taped herself together just enough to flee. Ben may not know what shattered her, but he recognizes a distorted reflection of himself in her eyes. 

No one else looks at her like that. No one else has gotten so close to guessing. She barely knows Ben, yet he’s already ducked under her defenses. If she doesn’t focus, he’ll realize the extent of Rey’s damage. 

She sighs when the burning heat of the shower elicits goose bumps. Shaking under the shower, Rey pushes down the rising roar of memories. The sooner she buys a ticket away from this place, the easier it will become to swim against the undercurrent of terror. Rey closes her eyes and imagines the elated weightlessness of flight. 

Her heart plummets. Ben’s hopeful smile flickers in her mind; it eclipses the joy of flight. Rey gasps. Her eyes widen and her heart races. She will miss Ben. A bubble of laughter dribbles from her lips. She’s never missed anyone before. 

Rushing out of the shower, Rey jerks the hairbrush through her knotted mane. She looks around for her clothes and sighs. Wrapping the towel tighter around her torso, Rey opens the door and tip-toes towards her luggage. The rush of cold air summons goose bumps. 

She hears a gasp. Rey’s hand tightens into a fist. She jumps up and notices Ben’s gaping mouth and scarlet face. Her body relaxes, and the unconscious reaction leaves her blinking and confused. 

Sighing she gestures to her luggage, “I forgot to bring clothes.”

“I… I can just go back to my room… And…And wait…” stutters Ben.   
Rey grinds her teeth and forces out the words, “No, it doesn’t matter.” She needs to behave normally. Glancing over at Ben, she realizes that he’s actually covering his eyes. She giggles, then grabs some clothes and forces them on in record-time. 

“You can open your eyes,” she laughs. Ben nods and turns away from her. 

“I… Uh… Got my camera bag. I’m ready when you are.”

“Great, I’m ready.”Ben strides towards her. 

His hand reaches out, and for a second she wonders if he will hold her hand again. Then his hand begins tapping out rhythms against his thigh; Rey struggles to comprehend why a wave of disappointment washes over her. The usual nausea and freezing fear don’t wash over her when Ben touches her. Odd.   
…   
Emerald ivy climbs the vermillion brick walls. Eclectic lighting features hang in the air; they range from ivory, antique chandeliers to bare Edison-esque bulbs. A long, rectangular communal table hewn from stained pine fills the center of the room, but Rey and Ben sit in a cozy corner at one of the private tables. 

Rey inspects the jungle of plants housed in this aromatic coffee shop. She tries to name the blooming rainbow of flowers. Her fingers reach out to stroke the magenta peony growing out of a skull shaped pot on the table besides their menus. Ben shakes his head, so she stops. 

Instead, Rey tries to envision Ben coming here on his own. The image of looming Ben hunched over a menu with his knees tucked under the table elicits laughter. Ben reads the menu like some would a piece of classical literature. His brows furrow and he hums sporadically. The sight tugs at the corners of Rey’s mouth. She smiles up at him, and waits patiently for Ben to finally decide on his breakfast. 

Eventually, he blinks his eyes and answers her stare with a quirked charcoal brow. Rey just laughs and shakes her head. 

“I decided about ten minutes ago,” she teases. His ears turn pink. 

“Um… I… I needed time. There are a lot of options.”

“If you come here a lot, wouldn’t you already know your order?’

“Maybe… I like to mix things up?”

“Hmm… You don’t seem like the type,” Rey teases. 

“Why do you say that?” asks Ben indignantly. Rey shrugs. 

“You spend so much time agonizing over all of the big questions; if you spent that much time thinking through every choice, then you’d never get up in the morning.” 

She laughs before continuing, “No, I don’t know why, but you seem like the sort who knows exactly what you like and how you like it.” She gestures to his clothes. “You like black, so you wear only black… Even though that makes you seem like some wannabe goth.” 

“I’m not goth,” Ben scoffs. 

“Really? Your outfit certainly didn’t get the memo. When was the last time you wore any colors?”

“I… I… wore a red shirt two weeks ago.”

“You just proved my point.”

“But… I wore a color.”

“Yes… Two weeks ago, Ben!”

“But… I still wore a color.”

“Please, it was laundry day, wasn’t it?” Rey gasps for breathe between fits of laughter.

“…So?” Ben looks genuinely confused. 

“You are so predictable,” she giggles. 

“I can be mysterious,” Ben defends. 

“Puppies aren’t mysterious either. It’s ok.” 

“Why do you keep calling me a puppy? I’m not even a dog person,” Ben pouts. His lower lip even juts out for a few seconds. Rey stares transfixed and bites her own lip. 

She shakes her head and continues, “You like snakes, don’t you? And secretly cats?”

“… I refuse to answer that…” Ben crosses his arms and looks out the window. His entire face flushes crimson. 

“See, so predictable!” 

 

“Fine, then guess my order!” Ben’s hands slam the table and he leans towards her. Rey notices the hints of amber in his coffee eyes and feels like a fly caught in those amber depths. 

“Cinnamon French toast with extra syrup and a side of bacon.” She shakes her head and tries to catch her breath. 

“… The menu doesn't have many options… It was an easy guess.”

“Ben, the menu is five pages long. They even have matcha waffles. Just accept it. You are predictable.” 

“Ugh… only about the little things,” Ben stutters. 

“Hmm…” Rey just stares at him and relishes the hints of happiness that peek out from the clouds of confusion in the depths of those coffee eyes of his. 

“Well, what are you ordering? A fruit salad?”

“Please, you said you’d pay, right?”  
“… Yeah…”

“Great, so I was planning to order the spinach and goat cheese omelet with a side hash browns, another of sautéed onions and mushrooms, and a lemon-blueberry muffin. I was also thinking of getting a coffee. You’re the regular, what you recommend?”

Ben blinks back at her. Poor guy, she probably teased him a tad too much. 

“I wasn’t planning to get all of that. I’m just teasing you.”

“No! No! You’re… You’re so thin… Um… You should eat…”

“Don’t worry, I do.” God, not another person assuming she’s anorexic. Rey’s mind flashes back to days of knife stabbing her stomach hunger. Those experiences probably caused her continued gawkiness and utter lack of curves. 

“No! I didn’t mean… Ugh… I meant...” Ben slumps, “I meant that you probably have a high metabolize and that I wasn’t shocked about your food choices. I just was trying to think of a coffee to recommend. They… Well, they have a lot of options…” 

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I just assumed.”

“No, people can be jerks,” Ben nods with a melancholy smile. 

“Yeah,” she sighs. His eyes scan the menu again. 

“What about the lavender latte?”

“Hmm… That sounds interesting,” Rey nods. 

“I just mean… It’s odd, but sweet and sorta relaxing and it smells good… And shit I just said that out loud didn’t I? Shit…” 

“Relax, Ben. Thanks. I’m going to try it. Can I recommend a coffee for you?”

“Ok.”

“Matcha latte.”

“What is that?” Bens eyebrows crinkle and he tilts his head to the side just like Chewie does sometimes. Rey bites her lip and ruffles his hair. Yep, exactly like Chewie: a loveable giant whose outer appearance scares off the occasional pedestrian, but who secretly has a large heart. 

“Matcha is this type of green tea common in Japan. They use it for tea ceremony. Some people find it a tad bitter, but it has this inimitable, earthy flavor that a lot of people become practically addicted to. It reminds me of you,” she laughs. 

“Because I’m bitter?” He chuckles. 

“No, because people might not know if they like you the first time they meet you, but then you grow on them, and before they know it, they need you in their lives.”

“People, huh?” His eyes twinkle and her heart feels like its plummeting down a roller coaster. She gulps. 

“People,” she nods. Then she grins. Teasing Ben is becoming her favorite pastime. 

“Ben, this is your first time here, isn’t it?” His ivory face blanches. 

“How? How did you guess?”

“It took you ten minutes to decide on something to eat. Besides, your eyes give you away.”

“Fine…”

“Why?”

“Because you like it, right?”

“Yes, so?”

Ben shrugs, “I wanted to take you somewhere you’d love. This… This place feels like you. All the plants… The scavenged furniture… The brightness… It feels like a Rey place. Besides… I may not have gone before, but I think it’s my new favorite café…. As long as the coffee is strong and the food is good, I mean.” 

Rey’s entire body feels warm. She smiles up at Ben and hesitantly clasps his hand. She absently rubs her thumb across his fingers, until the waiter arrives and pops their peaceful bubble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your comments! All of you are so kind, and your support fuels my writing. (It also helps motivate me to update faster, instead of just being lazy and posting whenever the writing bug bites.) 
> 
> Well, Poe and Ben finally fought. Those boys have been gearing up for an argument since Ben moved into the flat. 
> 
> Ben's not exactly fair in his assessment of Finn and Poe as friends, but he's just a very protective and (perhaps a tad obsessive) guy when it comes to Rey. Also, I feel that when you start disliking your flatmates, you practically start looking for excuses to get increasingly annoyed with said flatmates. 
> 
> Originally, I planned to write their day of wandering around NYC in one chapter, but I realized that it would get quite long and if I only wrote one chapter, then I'd probably end up skipping a lot of dialogue. 
> 
> At the moment, Rey and Ben are still getting to know one another (in person, anyway), so I feel that these dialogues are some of the best ways to show how they view the other and the qualities within themselves that the other tends to draw out. 
> 
> Not to mention, Rey's slowing starting to let down her barriers, which is huge for her.
> 
> Anyway, long comment over. Thanks for reading this and please keep commenting!


	7. Chapter 7

Breakfast passes much like Ben’s first concert: a collection of oh-so-perfect snapshots accompanied by snippets of sound that leave him humming along and craving more. 

They chatter. Rey steals bites of his French toast. He retaliates by taking sips of her lavender latte. She speaks, and Ben loses himself in the melody of her voice.

Her narrative paints pictures of the places she’s visited. When Rey laughs about refusing to take a cable car to see the Great Wall, Ben’s own thighs burn as he listens to her description of thousands of mismatched, uneven stone steps. Still, her face as she relishes the memories leaves Ben more breathless than sprinting up those stairs ever could. Ben pictures himself there, beside her, sweating and laughing while racing along the wall and taking photos.

Whenever she describes a new place and another fond memory, Ben sees himself standing beside her with their hands clasped. Then he’d sighs and takes another sip of his matcha latte. He nearly spits it out after the first sip, but after a few sips he decides he might order it again. 

Ben prefers Rey’s lavender latte though, so he continues stealing sips for the rest of the breakfast. She pretends to be annoyed, but her gleaming eyes and face-splitting grin encourage him.  
…  
After breakfast, Ben steers Rey to the subway. He buys her a week pass. She grumbles and races to insert her credit card into the machine before him, but he gently swats her hand away. She keeps trying to sneak cash into his pockets though, so he keeps side-stepping away, then realizing he misses her warmth and edging closer. 

They slide through the gates and Ben points to the stairway. Rey fumbles around and takes out her camera before proceeding to follow him down the steps and onto the correct subway platform. His brows scrunch, then Rey elbows him and points to an elderly woman with a tanned, wrinkled face wearing a yellow handkerchief over her salt and pepper hair. 

Rey moves towards the woman and gestures to her camera. At first, the lady’s eyes flash and Ben strides forward with tensed shoulders and tightened fists, but Rey shows the woman the photos she’s taken and the lady relaxes and nods. 

Ben’s shoulders slump and he laughs and shakes his head. Rey skips back to him. For the rest of the trip, Rey snaps photos, initiates conversations with strangers, and then dances back to Ben. He feels caught between laughing at her bumbling puppy-like enthusiasm and terrified of someone picking a fight with Rey.  
…  
Central Park appears in Ben’s periphery vision as a blur of green. He bites his cheek and wills himself to notice his surroundings, but his eyes keep being dragged back to Rey. She’s like the sun. She has her own gravity, and Ben can’t seem to knock himself out of orbit. 

Rey races around with her face obscured by her Canon. He can’t see her eyes, but her smile reminds him of some sugar-sweet kid from one of those Hallmark Christmas movies. Questions tug at his tongue like overeager puppies. He shallows, forcing them down. Eventually, one puppy-eager question pulls against the leash of his self-control and tumbles out of his mouth. 

“What do you see?”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“When you… You know… Take pictures. What do you see through the lens?”

“Oh…”

“Sorry… Is that… Private? Umm…”

“I” She pauses, “I like to think I see. I guess that doesn’t exactly make sense, but when I look through my camera lens, the world looks crisper, almost. I notice more. It feels like I dissect the world into this series of snapshot and start to understand it. Things make sense. So, I try to capture that, the understanding.” 

“Huh…” 

“What?”

“It’s like you think in pictures.” 

“I guess. Isn’t that how you see the world?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well?”

“Well what” “Stop pretending to be obtuse, Ben. Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“Really, stop playing dumb. What do you see when you look through that lens? Why do you take photos?”

“I see dollar signs.”

“Really, you aren’t usually this… acerbic. Sarcastic yes, but not this.”

“Fine… Sorry… It’s just… Thinking of work at the magazine just.. Brings that out, I guess,” he sighs and looks away. He  
doesn’t want to see the pity in her eyes. Rey’s own talent pays her bills. Ben got his job because Snoke pities him. Snoke even told him so to his face on numerous occasions while sneering over Ben’s prints.

“Oh. You don’t seem to like your job much.”

“It pays well,” Ben laughs humorously. 

“But it makes you miserable?”

“… It shouldn’t… I mean, Snoke helped me so much. I don’t… I’m not talented enough to survive off my own stuff. Snoke’s right. I need this. I need the magazine. But… Well, all the pictures of purses or models with various big cats just  
start to blur together eventually.”

“Ben, you have plenty of talent. The photo you took of me is gorgeous, and that was just you messing around,” Rey looks so earnest. Ben sighs. Rey continuous, “Besides, there have to be some perks of the job? You’re surrounded by gorgeous people in various states of undress most days. That can’t be too bad.”

“Rey… I’m not… I mean…”

“Ben, it’s ok. Tell me.”

“I’m just not… Normal.” There. He said it. Soon, he’ll see his father’s expressions on Rey’s face. He braces himself.

“Ben, what’s normal?”

“I don’t know… I just… If I don’t…” Ben sighs and drags a hand through his hair. He notes several long black strands laying across his fingers. “If I don’t know the person, I don’t feel interested in… Anything.”

“So when you look at people, you don’t feel any interest?” Rey bites her bottom lip and looks up at him through her sunlight in the forest eyes. 

Ben sighs, “I mean… I guess I notice ascetic appeal… I have to, it’s part of my job… To shape these figures into perfect, empty statues in order to sell luxury product… But, I don’t feel interest like that… No…” His heart hammers. His ears ring and he hears the endless chant of his childhood: Freak Freak Freak. He tears his gaze away from Rey and forces himself to inspect the tree to his right instead. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He twists to stare into her eyes. No hint of confusion clouds her eyes. No curl of disgust moves her lips. She doesn’t mind. His lips quirk and his shoulders relax. 

Rey shrugs, smiles, and tentatively reaches for his hand, “You seem to be tearing yourself over being different when your way actually sounds more romantic.” 

“You… You don’t think it’s weird?”

Rey’s thumb grazes his knuckles and his chest warms. 

“Ben, that’s not weird. Everyone is different. Besides, I’m weirder.”

“How you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“Perfect.”

“Perfectly fucked up, yes.” Rey laughs, but her eyes look so sad. Ben’s heart aches for her. 

“No, you’re… Rey, how can you say that about yourself? You’re so… bright… It’s practically blinding… You’re just so…  
Good… So… Positive.” 

“Ben, I have plenty of faults.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I’m typically terrified of this.”

“Rey, what’s this?”

“Touch.” She gestures to their intertwined hands. Ben gives her hand a squeeze and shrugs. 

Ben nods, “I sorta guessed.”

“Really?” Her head reels back and she gawks. 

“Yeah, you flinch,” Ben tries to avoid voicing his theories on why Rey avoids touch and runs away from her past.  
Hopefully she won’t press for details. If he’s right, then she’ll want to tell him herself. 

“Anyway, there. You know one of my flaws.”

“Rey, not everyone is touchy-feely. That isn’t a flaw.” Especially not after what she probably went through to cause this  
behavior. 

“Fine,” she sighs and squares her jaw. “I usually deflect. I don’t open up to people. Sure, I can be friendly. I listen to their stories and I ask questions, but I never tell them my story. I never let anyone get that close. I’m just too scared.” 

“But you’re telling me this, Rey.” He squeezes her hand and resists the urge to wrap her in his arms. She trusts him, and the fact causes his chest to warm and his face to flush. 

“Yes! And I don’t understand why. Why you? Why now? I’ve known Finn for five years. Five years, Ben! Yet, I here I am telling you more about myself than I’ve ever told anyone and I haven’t even know you for twenty-four hours. I don’t understand it, and it’s frankly a tad terrifying.” 

“Opening up can be daunting, but whatever happened to you, I won’t look at you differently, Rey.”

“Ben, you say that now, but you don’t know that. How can you be so sure?” Her eyes glimmer with unshed tears. She bares her teeth like a cornered animal. Ben notes how her shoulders tense and her arms shake. He slowly reaches for her hand and intertwines their fingers, before looking her in the eye. 

“Because, it’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the long time between updates; I was moving/traveling and didn't have any free time. 
> 
> I apologize for the short chapter. I need to get back into the flow of things, and I found a good ending and didn't want to take away from it by dragging out the chapter. 
> 
> I'll try to post another (longer) chapter tomorrow. Thanks for all of your comments. They really do mean so much.
> 
> Also, I hope you guys don't mind that Ben is demisexual here. In my opinion, in canon, he just doesn't seem that interested in anything particularly sexual and it doesn't feel like he has a lot of experience either dating or sleeping around (true, he was raised as a Jedi and he's been busy, but I still just get demisexual vibes off the guy.)


	8. Chapter 8

Rey’s head reels and her stomach plummets, while her heart flutters. Is this how astronauts feel in zero gravity, she wonders. Ben’s coffee eyes stare at her so warmly; she can’t spot a flicker of deceit in their depths and somehow that frightens her even more. 

Her legs twitch. She braces herself to run. Instead, she stands still and stares back into those coffee eyes of his. Confusion clouds her mind and ice clogs the veins leading to her heart. It stutters and she gasps for breath. 

Rey barely knows Ben, yet she talks to him as if he’s the imaginary friend whose grown up alongside her. She looks down at their intertwined hands, waiting to feel the instinctual need to jerk her fingers out of his, but it never comes. It hasn’t come any of the other times Ben has touched her either. Ben keeps popping her bubble, and Rey can’t muster the energy to mind. Oddly enough, his touch reminds her of a cozy blanket; it relaxes and soothes her. 

Waves of guilt wash over Rey. She pictures Finn’s broad, smiling face. She should be sharing these fears with Finn. She should be explaining her behavior to him. Yet, she’s standing here and telling Ben more about herself than she’s ever told anyone else. He turns her mouth into river. The truths just flow out of her. Instead of reciting her well-worn list of ambiguities and half-truths, Rey ends up baring herself to the ghosts of her past in order to elicit another half smile from Ben. 

Tearing herself away from his eyes, Rey bites her lip and fumbles for her camera. It rests against her stomach. She picks it up and stares through the lens. Squinting, Rey fiddles with the ISO and the shutter speed. She changes the focus features and then quickly snaps a picture of Ben’s inquisitive face. Looking down, she sighs when she notices the shadows obscuring his face and darkening his features. On the screen of her camera, his eyes don’t hold that cozy glow. She didn’t capture Ben. She just took a photo of his face. 

She grunts and re-adjusts the settings. This time she tries ISO 200 and slows the shutter speed. Click. She looks down at her camera screen and smiles. His quirked eyebrows and stunned grin remind her of a startled puppy eager to see whose at the door and if the stranger will play. She takes a dozen more just in case and shifts from foot to foot, tip-toe to heel in order to find the best light to capture his eyes and those lips.

When she kneels in order to get a more dramatic angle, he reaches for her camera. She skids away and chooses to dedicate herself to capturing how the light dances across the rippling surface of the azure pond that reflects wrinkled clouds and holds miniature sailboats. Noting the heavy branches of a weeping willow behind her, she strides off the bridge and adjusts herself and her camera in order to use the branches as a frame in the foreground of her composition. Absently, she notes the sound of Ben’s feet padding along beside her. She hears his warm hybrid of a laugh and a sigh and the sliding zipper of his camera bag. 

Hearing a click, she turns looks down at her camera, hums with pleasure at the digital scene before her, and then swirls around. Ben chuckles and she hears another click. 

“Are you taking a photo of me?” She laughs. 

“It’s only fair. You practically took a dozen of me,” he teases. His eyes gleam and warm pools in her stomach.

“Actually, I took twenty-five,” she announces. 

“Twenty-five?” His charcoal eyebrows shoot up and he looks at her with shock and bemusement.

“You were standing in front of the sun. The lighting was terrible.” She gestures wildly. He just shakes his head and laughs, then his eyes narrow and a smile stretches across his face. 

“I think you just like my face,” he teases. 

“Well, you do have a photogenic face.”

“But not a handsome one…” His shoulders droop and Rey’s eyebrows crinkle. She blinks and stares at him for a few moments. 

“Ben, you have a Mona Lisa face. People just can’t look away. Isn’t that better than being another Ken doll straight out of the   
factory?” 

He shrugs and hides his face behind his Nikon. She sighs. The camera clicks. She growls. Click. She picks up her own camera. Click. She readjusts the settings. Click. She snaps a photo of Ben, his face masked by his gleaming, ebony Nikon. Click. She giggles. Click. She snaps another photo. Click. Then a thought unfurls. Click. She tugs on Ben’s wrist. 

“Know anywhere with reflective surfaces?” 

He chuckles, “That’s practically my specialty.” A wolfish grin crosses his face. Kylo_Ren’s profile picture flashes across her mind. She bites her lip and shrugs off the thought. He’ll tell her when he wants to. In the meantime, she needs to avoid guessing. It’s just like with gifts, she muses. 

Her mind flickers back to the one time she celebrated Christmas.  
…

Chewie rested on her lap, while the fire blazed. The entire room was awash in the orange glow of the fire. Jewel-toned boxes with crisply wrapped corners lay stacked in the corner. Flickers of flame reflected in their surfaces. Rey watched. 

She heard the creak of stairs and the hurricane of Leia and Han’s intertwined voices. Rey flinched, her mind repeating the endless reel of painful bursts following those pouncing panther tones. She bites her lip and rubs the raised white scars along her hips. You’re safe. They won’t touch you. She chants to herself. Leia and Han reach the bottom of the staircase and the roaring winds of their anger morphed into distinguishable words. 

Leia kept mentioning a Christmas tree. Han rolled his eyes and smirked, trying to catch Rey’s eye. She just rested her face against Chewie’s flank, closed her eyes and tried to memorize the feeling of Chewie’s fur and the roaring fire drying out her skin until she imagined herself as dry as the cracked leather seats of the Falcon. 

Leia’s voice raised, practically tearing down Han’s defenses. Then, Leia’s voice hushed. The words carried such bitter poison. She spoke of broken promises and roguish neglect. Rey peeks up from behind Chewie’s side. Han’s hand fisted around his snow hair. The fingers reminded her of an eagle’s talons. He leaned towards Leia. Rey couldn’t hear the words that shot from his lips like bullets, but she knew. 

She didn’t belong here. Sure, Han and Leia smiled at her with hallow eyes. Han taught her how to fix the Falcon. Chewie licked her cheek. Leia left her notes before heading to work. But Rey saw the surprise in their eyes every time she showed up at the kitchen table for breakfast. Both schooled their shocked faces into tense grins. Leia would start to say another’s name, then would force herself to say Rey’s name instead. 

In those moments, Rey wished to disappear. She tried so hard to muffle her offending self and become the shadow of their lost child. She wished her features could morph from her grasshopper awkwardness into the projected perfection of Han and Leia’s child. But when she looked in the mirror, only her dull hazel eyes stared back. She never seemed to succeed in making herself vanish and their child appear. 

Now, on Christmas Day, Han and Leia fought in order to cope with their mutual disappointment and throbbing pain. All week they forced themselves through the motions. Leia returned home with shopping bags. Rey sidled up to her, ready to help, but Leia teased her about being impatient to unearth her presents. Leia’s voice sounded so hallow. It didn’t hold that husky, rose wood strength that stayed in Rey’s ears. The shock of Leia buying her gifts made Rey’s face flush, but her pleasure soon shifted into pain. 

Rey noted how Leia’s eyes kept slipping to the front door. Han’s hands constantly drummed against whatever solid surface they touched: the pine table, the peeling driving wheel, Chewie’s flank, his thigh. Sometimes Leia would take out her phone, dial a number, wait, and dissolve into backbreaking sobs. The first time this happened, Rey awkwardly patted Leia’s shoulder, but Leia twisted up and looked at Rey with such hope and disappointment. 

Rey couldn’t become their lost son. She couldn’t mend the wounds scarring Leia’s aching heart. So, Rey shrank into the shadows that week and watched instead. Rey couldn’t become their lost son. She couldn’t mend the wounds scarring Leia’s aching heart. 

Tree or not, Leia and Han moved like automations. They prompted Rey to rip apart the gem-like wrapping paper. They played holiday music. Han forced a grin when Leia passed him his gifts. Chewie’s tail wagged when Han passed him a bone. She glanced at Han and Leia. Han’s hands kept drumming against the air of his rocking chair and Leia’s eyes kept flickering to the door. During Christmas dinner, Rey chocked down the burnt turkey and too dry mashed potatoes.

… 

Rey loses her bearings stumbling after Ben through the twists and turns of his labyrinthian path. She bites her lip and wonders how she lost herself in this graph-paper city when she never hesitates along the chaotic, curling rues of Paris. Then she looks at Ben’s broad shoulders, and warmth wraps her in a calming hug. Oh. Her face flushes. That’s why. 

Ben turns back and flashes her a lopsided smile. Something about the quirk of his plush lips seems so familiar. But the stuttering heart and flushed face feel new.Confusion seeps through Rey’s consciousness. She tries to recall another time in her life where even a lazy grin could twist her insides, but no such moment plays on the reel of her memory. Only Ben has this unique control over her. Goosebumps raise in waves along her forearms. She shivers. The realization flashes across her mind like a lighted billboard: she’s never felt interested in another person in this way. Oh shit.   
…  
All of Ben’s attention focuses on one undeniable fact: He’s holding Rey’s hand. To be exact, he’s been holding Rey’s hand for twenty-three minutes now. Yes, he’s been timing it. No, he never intended to. He just happened to notice the time when she placed her hand in his. 

He relishes the cooling sensation of her icicle fingers. In winter, he’ll need to give her some gloves or else her frozen fingers may give him frostbite. Wait, why is he planning for the future? Ben growls to himself. He feels like a fool: weaving gossamer glamours of some impossible future. Rey made a career out of running away. 

Why would she want to stay for him? Why would she even be interested in him? Ben morphed into a monster of misery long ago. No wants him. His parents never did. Even his crazy uncle threw him out eventually. So how could someone as fucking perfect as Rey want him? He laughs to himself. Each mirthless chuckle feels like a knife stabbing his heart. 

Rey’s hand squeezes his own and Ben’s face flushes. He stops and gestures to the garden before them, Ben notes Rey’s gasp and his grin widens. The numerous mirrors, wind chimes, and glass ornaments hanging from the trees reflect the sunlight and illuminate the emerald leaves in an ethereal light. Rey releases his hand, and for a second he almost reaches out for her hand. Instead, he curls his empty hand into a fist and scrubs away the longing. 

She rushes through the gate and twirls in the center of the path. Her graceful frame, high cheek bones, rose petal lips, and sunlight-streaming-through-the-leaves eyes make her look like an elf. Ben laughs to himself and shakes his head. Like many middle schoolers, Ben obsessed over Tolkien’s world. He poured over the books and memorized the movies. Tolkien saved him from the harshness of home. Now Ben loved a girl who could easily play a part in the pages of Tolkien’s books. God, the irony.

Ben takes out his camera, glances at the petite garden, and swaps out the lens on his camera for one that will produce a fish-eye effect. Then he lies down on the ground in order to get a better angle. For the fish-eye effect to aid this composition, he wants to capture Rey ringed by forest green trees and the playful reflections of these hanging mirrors. He glances down at the settings, plays around with the ISO and shutter speed, and snaps a pic. 

The lens distorts the twirling Rey. Ben almost wishes she were wearing a long skirt or dress. The warped perspective might have given her skirt the appearance of a cloud; it would have made her look even ore magical than she already does, he muses.

Still, he ponders the photo. Rey’s closed eyes and gleeful grin hold an air of childhood innocence. The ring of trees that encircles her adds a sense of mysticism, while the golden stripes of the hanging mirrors paint stripes of light and shadow across Rey’s form. She looks like magic incarnate. He chuckles. If she ever sees this photo, she’ll know how he feels. 

He snaps a few more pictures, then shifts positions to try a new angle. Ben and Rey spend the next hour just strolling along the park and taking photos. Every few photos, Ben finds himself turning towards Rey and snapping more photos. She has her own field of gravity, and Ben can’t help but become caught in orbit. 

During this time, he finds his thoughts drifting to analyzing how the light dances across her face. When the light hits her eyes, they shine emerald and gold. When the light grazes her lips, they shimmer strawberry and peach. He licks his own lips. Ben blushes and hurriedly focuses back on his camera, but not until after that fateful camera click. He glances down at his photos of her and sighs. He can’t capture her. None of his photos compare to Rey. 

“Do you come here often?” Se asks. 

“What?” He blinks. 

“Do you come here often?”

“Oh… Ummm…” he sighs, “Not really.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t exactly feel like you.” Her 

“I went here once… As a kid… And, it just felt like an us place.” He shrugs off the memory of walking this same path beside Luke with a dripping vanilla ice-cream cone clutched between his hands. 

“An us place?” She smirks, one brow quirked and a glimmer in her eyes. 

“Just… It has aspects of us both: my mirrors and your plants.” Ben gestures around. Rey nods. Her eyes flicker with thought. Ben   
itches to ask her what she’s thinking about. 

“You keep associating me with plants, but, actually, where I grew up we barely had any plants around. Only the hardiest planets survive in the desert. No fragile, beautiful things can survive,” she mumbles. Her voice hitches when she says desert. Ben’s arms instinctively reach towards her. Rey bites her lip and plays with the petals of a nearby rose.

“You survived, so beautiful things must survive in the desert sometimes.” The words clatter from his mouth. He wishes he could pick them up, stuff them back into his mouth, and make her forget he ever said anything so cheesy and stupid. God, he keeps saying this Poe-like pick up lines. He probably seems like a douche or something. Rey clears her throat. Oh shit. What if she hates him?

“I’m not beautiful, and I don’t like being called fragile.” She seems to taste each word on her tongue before spitting them out onto the ground. Ben tenses, then looks at her eyes. No anger stokes flames in her eyes. Instead, he notes waves of sadness. 

“Rey, you must know… I mean… How could you not realize… You’re… You’re beautiful…” he sputters. She just stares at him. Her beautiful brows furrow. She quirks her head like a bird, then she laughs bitterly and shakes her head in denial. 

“I mean it. Rey,” 

“You don’t know. Ben…” She laughs acerbically, “I’m not beautiful. I’m just…” she pauses, then sighs, “ I’m just a bundle of broken pieces, trying to pretend I’m whole. I mean… One day, it might be true. All our experiences shape us, and there is beauty in everything. I’m working towards a day where I can look myself in the eye in the mirror and say I’m beautiful and mean it. But…” she sighs again. 

“But right now I don’t even consider myself beautiful. I’m just too broken. I have too many scars. I have too many problems that I need to work through.” 

“But Rey… If… If you just saw yourself the way I see you, then you’d realize… You’re breathtaking.”

“But Ben… That’s the point. I will never see myself like you see me. I look in the mirror, and I just see a little girl with piano key ribs and knobby knees, someone too weak to stop it… I look in the mirror and I…” Her eyes shimmer with tears. She bares her teeth and her canines flash. Rey growls and shakes her head, as if to dislodge a particularly grim thought. 

“Rey, you aren’t weak. And, whatever happened, it isn’t your fault. You didn’t cause it. Knowing you, you fought. You’re a fighter. You’re a survivor. You always see the glass half-full, and that positive shit. And those are some of the countless reasons that you’re so beautiful.” 

She just shakes her head roughly in detail and glares at a nearby tree. Ben sighs and rubs his hand through his hair. He bites his lip, looks down at his Nikon and then offers it up to her. 

“This is how I see you, Rey.” She stumbles towards him and gingerly takes the camera. Ben inspects her face as she translates his photos. Her eyebrows wrinkle with confusion, then the corners of her eyes soften. A faint smile tugs at her lips. Ben wishes he had his camera. He snaps a pic with his phone instead. Rey looks up at him with a faint grin. 

“Maybe, one day I’ll see myself like this, but for now… “ Her voice drifts off and she shrugs. 

“Then until then, I’ll be your mirror.”

“What?”

“I’ll show you…” Ben gestures towards her. He can feel his faces heating up with embarrassment. “I’ll remind you of how I see you when you’re sad. Rey, we’re all broken. Look at me, I’m a monster. I’m… I’m so messed up… Even my own parents couldn’t stand me. My dad practically abandoned us. No one… No one wanted me. I was an accident. I was the result of a forgotten pill and a broken condom. They didn’t want me… No one has.” Ben shirks off the grasping ghosts of his past and looks up at Rey. Her eyes shine with understanding and she gradually reaches out and hugs him. 

“I wasn’t wanted either,” she whispers. Ben nods against her shoulder. He closes his eyes and tries to memorize this moment. Ben can’t remember ever feeling so warm.   
…   
Something about Ben drags the painful truths out of her. Whenever they start talking, she babbles like some patient sitting on a leather settee in a psychiatrist’s office. She shivers. Still, something about that lazy morning with a cozy blanket feeling his touch invokes stops her from running away like she usually does. Rey sniffs and notes that Ben smells like coffee and wet ink. Ben’s arms   
tighten around her. 

“Would you… Would you have dinner with my friends and me?” 

“I sorta assumed we were going to have dinner together,” she laughs. She rests her head against Ben’s shoulder and glances up at his ear. She chuckles to herself when she notes the particular scarlet hue dyeing his ears. 

“Oh… Umm… Great…” 

“Do I at least get to hear their names? These mysterious friends?”

“Oh, Hux and Phasma.”

“Odd names.”

“Yeah… Hux is actually his last name. And…Um…Phasma… I don’t know… I guess her parents just had shitty taste in names.”

“Yeah, Rey no longer seems so bad.”

“I like the name Rey. It’s punny.”

“Ugh, you get sick of the puns quickly,” she says. 

“Hmm… But you’re my Rey of sunshine,” Ben jokes. 

“Oh, shut up or I’ll move,” she teases. 

“Damn, fine.”

“I think this is the longest hug of my life… Wait, I just made this awkward, didn’t I?” Rey laughs, but internally she’s cursing   
herself. Being wrapped in Ben’s arms reminds her of the island of her childhood. He just feels safe. She doesn’t want to leave his embrace just yet. 

“Sorta… But… I’m pretty awkward,” Ben chuckles. His arms tighten, then loosen and he steps back. Rey bites her lip. He looks torn   
too. Slowly, Ben reaches for her hand. She intertwines their fingers, and oddly appreciates his thumb rubbing senseless patterns against the back of her hand. 

“So, where to next, tour guide?” Ben chuckles and starts walking. 

…   
They wander through the streets of New York in a haze of chatter and camera clicks. Ben points out odd spots and recalls his adventures trying to get to said spots in pursuit of the perfect picture. His eyes gleam when he talks about photography. As he speaks, Rey notes how his lips twist and pucker. Rey licks her lips. 

He walks with her through markets and they amble through museums. Ben nods towards his favorite artists, before launching into near-endless biographies of each artist. Only the next piece of artwork by another beloved artist stops his impromptu biography. On a few occasions, Rey considers taking out her notebook and writing notes. Instead, she just nods and smiles when Ben’s eyes flicker back to her. She and Ben hold hands the rest of the day. Rey can't smother her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Well, I didn't end up posting as quickly as planned. Social obligations and some important meetings came up, so I got back tracked. Sorry for posting later than planned. 
> 
> Does anyone know how to insert a photo into the chapter? A few commenters mentioned wanting to see the pics, and I am happy to oblige. (Just pretend that the photos taken by the characters are much better than what you see.) 
> 
> Side note, gosh... Ben and Rey keep having these heart-breaking, emotional (and completely unplanned) conversations. I keep sitting down to write with intentions of reaching certain planned plot points, but then these two end up having such deep conversations and I don't have the heart to delete said conversations, since they're important for character building and showcasing their bond. 
> 
> I wanted to give a special thanks to someothersecret for the recommendation regarding Ben's photography style. I hadn't considered him using such specialized lens for his camera. (I mean, both he and Rey have professional class DSLR cameras for their respective brands, so both of them have the sort of camera that requires you to various lens to photograph different distances; however, I hadn't thought of him owning 'trick' lens and those suit his artistic style perfectly.) Thank you for the recommendation! 
> 
> Speaking of thanks, thank you all for your thoughtful comments. They truly mean so much. I hope you guys like this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there will be discussions about attempted suicide and rape in the last section of this chapter.

Something about Ben drags the painful truths out of her. Whenever they start talking, she babbles like some patient sitting on a leather settee in a psychiatrist’s office. She shivers. Still, something about that lazy morning with a cozy blanket feeling his touch invokes stops her from running away like she usually does. Rey sniffs and notes that Ben smells like coffee and wet ink. Ben’s arms tighten around her. 

“Would you… Would you have dinner with my friends and me?” 

“I sorta assumed we were going to have dinner together,” she laughs. She rests her head against Ben’s shoulder and glances up at his ear. She chuckles to herself when she notes the particular scarlet hue dyeing his ears. 

“Oh… Umm… Great…” 

“Do I at least get to hear their names? These mysterious friends?”

“Oh, Hux and Phasma.”

“Odd names.”

“Yeah… Hux is actually his last name. And…Um…Phasma… I don’t know… I guess her parents just had shitty taste in names.”

“Yeah, Rey no longer seems so bad.”

“I like the name Rey. It’s punny.”

“Ugh, you get sick of the puns quickly,” she says. 

“Hmm… But you’re my Rey of sunshine,” Ben jokes. 

“Oh, shut up or I’ll move,” she teases. 

“Damn, fine.”

“I think this is the longest hug of my life… Wait, I just made this awkward, didn’t I?” Rey laughs, but internally   
she’s cursing herself. Being wrapped in Ben’s arms reminds her of the island of her childhood. He just feels safe. She doesn’t want to leave his embrace just yet. 

“Sorta… But… I’m pretty awkward,” Ben chuckles. His arms tighten, then loosen and he steps back. Rey bites her lip. He looks torn too. Slowly, Ben reaches for her hand. She intertwines their fingers, and oddly appreciates his thumb rubbing senseless patterns against the back of her hand. 

“So, where to next, tour guide?” Ben chuckles and starts walking.   
…   
They wander through the streets of New York in a haze of chatter and camera clicks. Ben points out odd spots and recalls his adventures trying to get to said spots in pursuit of the perfect picture. His eyes gleam when he talks about photography. As he speaks, Rey notes how his lips twist and pucker. Rey licks her lips. 

He walks with her through markets and they amble through museums. Ben nods towards his favorite artists, before launching into near-endless biographies of each artist. Only the next piece of artwork by another beloved artist stops his impromptu biography. On a few occasions, Rey considers taking out her notebook and writing notes. Instead, she just nods and smiles when Ben’s eyes flicker back to her. She and Ben hold hands the rest of the day.   
…   
Ben beckons to a charming, rustic red brick Italian restaurant. Rey slips inside and admires the ambient lighting of candles and well-placed chandeliers. She glances back at Ben’s ivory face and grins. Even he looks a tad tanner in this light. Instead of looking like a terminally ill patient, he merely resembles a recluse.

Earlier, Rey had wondered how he remains as pale as a page, then she noticed him frantically coating himself in SPF 65 sunscreen. Poor Ben had flushed scarlet and mumbled intermittently about burning to a crisp the rest of the afternoon. Rey wonders what Ben would look like after a month or two in Thailand. She smiles at the thought, then shakes her head in an attempt to dislodge the stubborn fantasy. She keeps biting her tongue to stop herself from inviting him along on her next adventure. He has a life in New York. He wouldn’t want to abandon his friends for some woman he barely knows.

She chews on her lip and looks around for these mysterious friends of his. Ben has spent the day seeming to tweeter between excitement and dread. At some points, he’s painted Phasma’s praises, at other’s he spat out warnings regarding Hux. Her eyes strain for a mystical, Amazonian ice queen and a somehow reptilian, yet weasel-like ginger who makes Ben seem tan. If Ben didn’t keep smiling after choking out Hux’s name, Rey would have assumed they were mortal enemies. 

She looks back at Ben, and his eyes crinkle around the corners in that way of his. She bites down harder on her lip as her chest warms at the sight. He quirks an eyebrow in question, but she just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Ben’s hand lightly touches her lower back, and instead of ducking away from the touch, Rey finds herself enjoying his warmth.

Finally, her eyes meet glacier blue ones. An ivory skinned, blonde beauty stands up with the grace of a swan. Rey gulps. Then she remembers, Ben said Phasma and Hux have been dating for three years. Her racing heart slows and she breathes out a sigh of relief.

Wait… Why did she feel nervous? Does she? No… She can’t. She’s never… Not after… She doesn’t… Could she? Rey glances back at Ben. Those black coffee eyes gaze at her with such warm. His proud, roman nose and plush, rose lips fight for dominance on a face full of features too assertive to compliment each other, yet they create a striking visage and Rey can’t tear her eyes away from Ben’s Mona Lisa face. Her fingers itch to run through his ebony locks. Her lips want to caress each mole. She wants to play connect the dots with those moles. Oh God. Rey gulps and forces a smile. Her heart races, and she fights against the overwhelming need to runaway. 

“Are you ok? We can leave, if you want,” Ben whispers into her ear. His breath feel hot and moist. Rey shivers. Her stomach plummets and a chill runs down her spine. Images flash before her: sausage fingers peeling apart her thighs, a sweat-stained shirt muffling her cries, and that childhood island offering her mind respite agains the harsh reality. Rey’s breath hitches in her throat. She struggles to feel the oxygen filling her lungs. Ben twists down towards her with concern etched across his face. 

“Rey, do you have an inhaler? Is there something I can do? Should I get an ambulance?” 

“N-n-no.”

“Rey, are you sure?” 

She gulps and tastes the air, “Yes.” 

“Ok, but maybe we should go to a doctor or something?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Rey, your health isn’t nothing. Please… Just… Just think about it. I… I could take you.. If you just… Don’t like doctors or something… Please.” 

His eyes shine with sincerity and his mouth forms a tense line. Her heart thuds. He cares. The realization crashes over her and she blinks. 

“I’m okay. Sometimes, I just have issues breathing.” She forces out a laugh.

“Rey, I know a particularly good psychiatrist. I’m sure I could arrange an appointment.” 

“It would be pointless,” she sighs.

“I’m not so sure…” Ben counters, his eyes drifting up and down her face. 

“No. I just deflect.”

“Hah, welcome to the club,” Ben laughs sardonically. “But Rey, do you want to be here? Are you ok? We can   
leave.”

“No, dinner with your friends sounds delightful. I want to be here.”

“Ok, but just… Um… Tap the table three times if you want to leave, ok?” 

“Alright,” she consents with a grimace. Ben reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze, before they both stumble towards the table. 

Hux and Phasma both sit next to one another in the two wooden chairs. Rey glances at the wooden booth and then looks back at Ben. She shrugs her shoulder with feigned nonchalance and focuses on slowing her heart. Setting her backpack and camera bag to the side, Rey slinks into the booth.

Ben’s shoulder bumps her own. After settling in, she realizes that their shoulders are still touching. Rey bites her lip and stops herself from reaching for his hand; however, then she notices his hand clutching his own thigh tightly, as if to prevent himself from doing the same. She smiles. Their pinkies touch.   
… 

Ben’s mind races as he tries to process the entirety of what occurred since he and Rey walked into the restaurant. He’d touched Rey’s lower back. His fingers still tingle from the sensation and that jolt of realization when it crossed his mind that only a thin cotton shirt guarded the silky skin of her back. 

She’d seemed fine: smiling and glancing at him with her eyes shining like rays of light. Then, she had a panic attack. Ben’s brows furrow. Why did she have a panic attack? Is she alright? What could have triggered her? 

He searches frantically for any answer, but his mind draws a blank. He’d asked her multiple times if she genuinely wanted to meet his freakish friends and she seemed sincere when she said yes each time. She’s visited Italy multiple times and never mentioned anything besides genial feelings towards the place, so he doubts the restaurant could have caused her to freak out like that.

Could he have caused it? But how? Ben bites his lip. Maybe he’d taken advantage of Rey’s kindness and touched her too often. He’ll have to stop himself and just wait until she initiates, like he’d promised himself he would the first time he noticed her flinching last night. 

Ben looks up and notes Hux’s fat cat smile. His left hand tightens into a fist and he growls when Hux’s eyes gleam with self-satisfaction. Hux looks down at his menu, but he quirks an eyebrow in mock surprise and nods subtly towards Rey. Ben rolls his eyes and turns towards Hux’s better half. 

Unlike Hux, Phasma smiles warmly as she leans towards Rey to ask her something. God, that woman could do so much better. Ben’s wondered for years how someone who dresses so tastefully could have such shit taste in men. Phasma always just laughs and tells him that the two things are fundamentally different.

Still, you’d think an ex-model who now manages the models of one of the most successful fashion magazines in the world would have her pick of guys. Yet, she chose Hux, the obnoxious know-it-all ginger. At least Hux stopped being such a robot after Phasma finally asked him out on a date. Ben laughs. Hux pre-Phasma had a stick up his ass. The man walked around with a back so straight, Ben wondered if he had taped a metal rod to his spine. 

“So, you’re finally introducing us to your mysterious instagram girl?” Hux taunts. 

“I told you, I just liked her photos. Stop insinuating, bastard.”

“Boys, perhaps wait until the server asks for our drink orders before fighting? For once, I’d like to finish a meal without being kicked out,” Phasma chuckles. Rey squeezes his hand. He relishes the touch and takes a deep breath. 

“That will depend on how well your mangy cat behaves, Phas. It seems to me it ought to be fixed,” Ben growls. 

“Ha, jealous much?”

“Please,” Ben scoffs.

“Hux and Ben share a love hate relationship,” Phasma stage whispers to Rey, who nods and eyes the two men cautiously. Ben squeezes her hand back to reassure her. “They love to pretend they hate one another, yet each is the first one to stand up to the other’s defense… So long as the other one isn’t around to witness it,” Phasma laughs. 

“Anyway, how was work without me?” Ben forces himself to sound civil. 

“Well, Snoke sends his condolences and hopes you recover from the flu quickly. I think he even said he’d miss you,” Hux grimaces. 

“I thought you said you had vacation days?” Rey turns toward him and he sighs. 

“I ought to. I haven’t taken a single day off since I started working there,” Ben sighs. 

“But, alas it is tough to be the boss’s favorite,” Hux chuckles. 

“Shut up, I’m not his favorite.”

“Really? And he just invites you out for all those fancy business lunches because?” Ben shudders and chokes down the memories rising like bile in his throat. 

“Please, not today.”

“You alright?” Hux asks, suddenly leaning towards Ben. “Yeah… I just… Please…” Ben sighs.   
Hux’s eyes narrow. “Is that why you…?” Hux yelps and glances at Phasma. 

“So, what were you thinking of ordering? I’m not quite sure,” she asks. Hux turns towards her and the two start comparing the pros and cons of various dishes. 

“Are you okay?” whispers Rey. 

“Yes… And no…” Ben sighs. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I never do, but… Maybe later… On the fire escape… After I’ve had a beer or two,” he grimaces. 

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For… Not forcing me to talk.” Ben smiles and slumps against the booth. His head feels like a ton of bricks. It slowly sinks, until he’s resting his head against the top of Rey’s head. He sniffs. Her hair smells intoxicating: a mixture of fresh mint and sharp lemon, contrasting with the earthy scent of leaves, and somehow it reminds Ben of sunlight. 

“We all have our secrets,” Rey mutters. Ben absently strokes abstract sketches on the back of her hand and appreciates the contrast between the silken texture and her callused palms. 

“I’ll tell you everything… Eventually…. I promise.”

“Okay.” 

“Rey?”

“Yeah?”

“How are you so perfect?”

“It’s simple, I’m not.”

“You keep saying that, but so far you’ve only proven yourself to be the closest thing to perfection that I’ve ever seen.” 

“Ben, I’m really not.”

“You are to me.”   
…  
Phasma reminds Rey of a big sister well-practiced in the art of babysitting her unruly charges. She measures the tension with the twitch of her eye and de-escalates potential arguments with witty one-liners. Rey stares at the woman with a mixture of respect and awe.

She recognizes Phasma from the glossy front page of magazines. On those pages, Phasma appears cold and sharp. In person, Phasma has a surprising warmth in her eyes and a soft smile. 

Hux and Ben keep throwing sharp words back and forth under the thin veil of friendship. At first, Rey wondered if they genuinely hated each other, then she started noticing the concern that flashes in Hux’s eyes each time Ben grimaces, and the quirk of Ben’s lips after Hux’s prying jokes. 

Here, Ben feels so sharp: a conglomeration of jagged edges, flashing eyes, and snarling lips. With her, he seems so soft with his velvety touches, warm eyes, and gentle smile. Rey overlays her memories and the man sitting beside her as he teases and taunts Hux. They almost seem like two separate people; both vying for dominance over Ben. Rey wonders which half will win. She bites her lip and glances nervously at Ben, trying to hazard a guess. He notes her calculating eyes and smiles at her. Rey smiles back. 

Suddenly, Hux shoves his phone under Rey’s nose. The movement pops her out of her musings. She blinks and tries to focus on the image of a long-haired, orange cat. She sits with the poise of a queen. Rey smiles and nods, then passes the phone to Ben. He looks down at the picture, then shoves the phone back at Hux and rolls his eyes. 

“I don’t understand your obsession with that abomination,” Ben sighs. 

“Don’t talk about Millie like that!” Hux cries out. 

“For Christ’s sake… She’s evil,” Ben grumbles. 

“No, she just has taste.”

“That mangy fur ball fucking hissed at me every time I entered our flat.”

“Like I said, she has taste.”

Phasma laughs, “I find her quite sweet actually. It took her a couple months, but now she purrs in my presence.” Phasma pauses, "sometimes.”

“I was Hux’s flatmate for years, and that demonic creature only ever hissed and bit,” Ben grumbles. 

“You weren’t exactly subtle in your dislike of her. She was behaving in self-defense.” 

“Hux, that minx destroyed my laptop with one bite! One bite! How is that self-defense?”

“You should have been more careful with your stuff.”

“I was working on my desk in my room.”

“See, that’s the problem. Every room is Millie’s room.”

“Ugh, you are so fucking weird. Phas, how do you put up with this freak?”

“Eh, he grows on you.”

“You could do so much better.”

“True, but I quite like what I’ve got,” She grins and her eyes gleam. The perpetually scowling red-head smiles   
and pecks her on the lips. Phasma’s finger intertwine with Hux’s. The flickering light of the candles and warm yellow of the chandeliers interplaying with shadows causes Rey to fumble around for her camera. She changes the settings and snaps a few photos from different angles. 

“Do you mind?” She asks. 

“Photographers. I swear you all never stop working,” Hux rolls his eyes, but his words lack venom. 

“I’d be happy to pose for you sometime. I’m technically retired from modeling, but I just adore seeing different photographer’s interpretations of me, ” Phasma says with a smile and glint in her eye. Then she nods towards Ben. “That one carved me into the Ice Queen, you know?” Ben coughs and looks away. 

“Wait… But… Wasn’t that the photo shoot that got you noticed? I don’t know a lot about fashion photography, but I’ve seen some of the shots. They’re gorgeous. The lines! The shadows! You looked like a glacier carved into the shape of a goddess,” Rey gushes and looks at Ben. 

His ears turn scarlet, and his coughing grows more pronounced. 

“For Christ’s sake, man. Accept it! You have some talent. Be proud,” Hux grumbles, but his face shifts into a proud smile. “Ben’s never lost a single photography competition, but the shy git would be the last to tell anyone that. I swear, I practically had to write his resume for him. He needs to learn how to brag.” Hux continues, “Luckily, he’s pitiable enough that I help out sometimes.” 

“Not every one,” Ben mumbles.

“What?” asks Hux. 

“I lost one.” 

“Really? Oh yeah… that Ta…” Hux’s mouth closes with a snap when Phasma elbows him while nodding towards Rey with a tight smile. Rey almost asks about it, but notes the panic in Ben’s eyes and decides to chain down her questions. 

“Well, you’ve competed in so many. It was bound to happen eventually,” Hux shrugs. The air feels heavy and the quietness oppressive. 

The waiter arrives and gracefully passes them their plates. Rey eagerly picks up her fork and digs into her pesto gnocchi garnished with parmesan. Rey moans. Ben’s face flushes, and she bites her lip to muffle her laughter. Hux actually does laugh. Phasma just smiles and watches Ben and Rey with knowing eyes.

Rey takes a second bite and closes her eyes to appreciate the perfect balance of herbs and sharp cheese, contrasted with the chewiness of the gnocchi. Eyes still closed, she tries to get another forkful of pasta, but her fork hits something solid. Opening her eyes, Rey notices the offending fork in her dish. She twists to look Ben directly in the eye. 

“Why do you always steal my food?” Rey teases. 

“Why do you keep ordering so well?” Ben taunts back with a playful smile. Her eyes drift towards those pillow-soft lips of his and her stomach twists. 

“I could just order for you next time,” she offers, dragging her eyes away from his lips. A smidge of green pesto sauce rests on his bottom lip, and somehow that sight causes her heart to race. 

“What would be the fun in that? No, I prefer it this way,” Ben chuckles. Rey swears she hears Phasma squeal. 

“Fine, then I’m taking some of your carbonara,” she relents and reaches for his dish. 

“You can take whatever you like. In the meantime, I’ll just enjoy this pesto gnocchi of mine,” Ben laughs.

The rest of the meal passes in amiable conversation and occasionally kicked shins. Rey and Phasma swap contact information and Ben grins the entire time. In that moment, he reminds her of a cat that just caught a particularly succulent bird. 

Throughout the meal, she finds herself searching for excuses to touch him. It becomes a dance: she grazes his hand while reaching for his carbonara; his face flushes, and he reciprocates by leaning delectably close when spearing some of her gnocchi onto his fork. 

When waiter pours the wine and Rey declines in favor of an expresso, she thinks she hears Phasma whispering something about like his eyes. Rey flushes and bites her lip. Ben coughs and glares at Phasma. The blonde beauty just grins and shrugs innocently. Hux snickers the whole time. Eventually, the group breaks apart with hugs and gruff good-byes. 

“I like your friends. They’re unconventional, but they care,” Rey tells Ben as they walk to the nearest subway station. 

“Yeah, I’m lucky… They’ve put up with… A lot… I can be a shitty friend,” Ben grimaces. 

“So far you seem like a great friend,” Rey argues. 

“You’ve only seen me on my best behavior,” Ben laughs, then tentatively reaches for her hand. “The subway can… Get crowded at this time of night,” he sputters. Rey glances about at the nearly empty subway platform and tightens her grip on his hand.   
…   
Ben finally understands all those romantic cliches that he used to roll his eyes at. Previously, he assumed that if he ever fell in love, he would do so slowly and rationally. He wouldn’t bumble about clumsily like some idiot from a romantic-comedy.  
Yet here he stands, fumbling around for excuses just to spend another second in the prescience of this magical girl. Love. Ben sighs. He once felt so terrified of the word. Now, it just summons a face, Rey’s face. Ben 

They stumble through the door, hands still clasped and smiles practically breaking their faces. Ben’s eyes meet hers and his face grows warm. Rey glances up at him and laughs. The overwhelming urge to lean down and taste those rosebud lips of hers sends Ben shivering. 

Then he hears the thud of a heavy glass and the bee buzzing of Poe’s muddled voice. Ben tears his eyes away from Rey and glances at the furious man, sitting at their wooden table and glaring at Ben with tangible hatred. Ben notes the half empty tequila bottle and sighs. 

Rey tenses beside him. She looks like a deer about to bolt. Her eyes seem haunted, as if she is staring at a ghost from her past. Her shoulders hunch, like a dog preparing to be kicked. The realization smacks him in the head. Someone from her past had a drinking problem. How could Poe be so blind? Couldn’t the asshole at least hold himself back for a few weeks, until Rey left? God, she shouldn’t have to put up with this.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Ben sighs. 

“You! And cancer… And you!” Poe sputters. Cancer? Damn, seems like everyone’s getting cancer nowadays. Ben shakes his head sadly and thinks of his mother and Hux’s father. Sure, neither of them were particularly close to their parents, but no one deserved cancer. 

“Do you… Have cancer?” Ben tentatively tries to ask. Poe just glares at his balefully. 

“No, my boss, you moron.” 

“I’m sorry, Poe. I should have…”

“You knew? You knew and you didn’t tell me? Or Finn? What the hell, Rey?”

“Poe, she asked me not to. She said she only told me because she knew I was out of the country. I’m sorry…”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Rey. You come to our house and pretend like everything is fine. How could you? How can   
you just lie like that? With a smile, a fucking smile!”

“Because she asked me to, Poe.”

“So? Friends shouldn’t lie, Rey. What sort of a shit friend are you?”

“I kept my promise.”

“Bullshit! You just did what you always do! You fucking ran away from the problem.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah, here flirting with the nearest available asshole.”

“Ben’s not an asshole, Poe. He’s nice. Look, where’s Finn?”

“Out with Rose. They go out on Tuesdays now,” Poe sighs. 

“Should I call him?”

“No, please. Rose needs him… Finn’s good with people. He’s helping her cope with Paige’s…”

“How about I call Finn?”

“There you go again, Rey! You always fucking avoid the problem. The second things get emotional, you run. You   
always do this. And look at him! Look at him!”

Poe points towards Ben and snarls. Ben tenses and moves to stand between Poe and Rey, but then Poe opens his big mouth and continues, “Face it! He just wants to take advantage of you, Rey! You’re some girl who flies around the world at the drop of a fucking hat. Sex with you is the goddamn definition of no strings attached!”

“What the fuck?” Ben growls. 

“Oh, come on! You pissed that I figured it out? Upset that I warned your conquest before she hopped into bed with you? Well, you aren’t screwing with Rey!”

“What…. The… Fuck?” Ben snarls, “How dare you talk about her like that? You claim you’re her friend, yet you aren’t treating her like one.” 

“Oh shut up, what would you know about friendship? No one likes you.” Poe hiccups. 

“I have friends.” 

“Yeah right. You’re probably just like her, right? Pretending like the thousands who follow you on Instagram count. News flash! They don’t. Rey, come on. Sober up and realize he’s just going to use you like everyone else.”

“Poe, you’re drunk. Please, just drink some water and sleep on your side with a bucket, please.” 

“Don’t fucking belittle me, Rey! I’m trying to protect you from this… This monster, ok?” 

“Poe, come on. Let’s just get you to bed.”

“No! Don’t go to bed with him. That’s what the freak wants.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. How can you be so goddamn stupid? Do they just hand out law degrees nowadays? I have shared this flat with you for practically a year and I’ve never had a single person over. Haven’t you realized yet? I’m not interested in one-night stands! I don’t just have sex with people. For Christ’s sake, I’ve never… I’ve never willingly had sex with anyone. Now stop being a douche, drink some fucking water, and leave Rey the fuck alone,” Ben rants. 

Poe’s hands form into fists, but Rey wraps her arms around the man’s torso and starts dragging him to his room. Poe kicks out and it connects with her shin. Rey sucks in a breath and her face scrunches. Ben growls. He sees red. His hands form into two fists and he winds up, preparing for a blow. Then he sees her face. He eyes look so sad and so tired. He can’t. Ben sighs. He deflates. Slowly, he stumbles towards the kitchen area and fills a glass with water. 

“If he pukes, his fucking boyfriend better clean it up,” Ben sighs. 

“I’ll pass on the message,” she sighs and forces a grin.  
…  
Scenes from her past loop endlessly on a reel. Rey bites her lip to try and force herself to distinguish between her nightmares and reality. Ben tentatively reaches for her hand and she turns and hugs him once they’ve shut the door to Poe’s room. She takes a deep breath. Ben’s scent fill her nostrils and she relaxes. 

“Could we go to your fire escape?” she asks. 

“Our fire escape,” he quietly chides her. 

Rey walks dully through his room. Ben grabs the same blanket from last night and she smiles and slides open the door leading their fire escape. She slumps down and leans against the wall, staring at the constellations of human life before her. She sighs. 

Ben slides down next to her and offers the blanket. She takes it and wraps one of his arms around her, before leaning against his side. 

“I’m sorry… About that… You know I would never do that, right?” 

“I know. But Ben…”

“Yes?”

“What aren’t you telling me? You said, back at the restaurant, that you’d tell me here, and… I wanted to wait, but after that…” Rey sighs and steels herself, “I just want to be open with you. Ask me any question you want, and I’ll answer it. But I expect the same. A question for a question.” 

“Ok,” Ben nods, then continues, “At the restaurant, there were two things that I meant to tell you. But… Well, I think I have three things now.” 

“Okay.”

“Ok… Ummm…. So… The first…” Ben sighs and looks miserable. “Rey, I’m Kylo_Ren. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier… I just thought… That… If you knew… Then… How could I be sure you liked me…Without the mask…” He sprints through the sentences and stares at her. Panic flares in his eyes. Rey holds back her smile and pats his knee instead. Ben’s eyebrows crinkle and he twists to look at her. Confusion clouds his face. 

“Ben… I tried not to guess, but it was pretty obvious.”

“You knew?”

“I had… Suspicions.”

“Since when?” he asks. 

“Since the first photo. Ben, I know your photography. I know your style, and you didn’t try to hide it.” 

“I… I guess you have a point…” he sighs, and looks like a kicked puppy. She squeezes his knee. 

“And Ben…”

“Yes?”

“I prefer you like this.”

“Really? But… Poe’s right, I’m just a freak.”

“Ben, Poe’s drunk.”

“They say drunk people can’t lie.”

“Poe said how he sees you. That’s not how I see you.”

“Then… How do you see me?”

“Ben,” she gulps and forces herself to look into his eyes. “Ben, you are so sweet, gentle, intelligent, and interesting. You seem bitter at first, and you try to push people away. But... But you’re the first person that I’ve ever really opened up to. I’ve never let anyone in like this before. I never trusted anyone enough before. But, Ben, you tore down my walls. I trust you. God, Ben, you make me want to… This is embarrassing.”

“Nothing but truth. You promised.” 

“For you, I could try to stay still. Ben, I made a career out of running away, but you make me want to stay put. I want a future with you. And… If you don’t feel the same, I’m sorry. I know that we barely know each other but…” 

Ben’s lips graze her’s and his kiss feels warm and safe and nice. It feels like the opening lines to a favorite novel. She wraps her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss. Rey wants to memorize his taste against her tongue. They cling to one another, as if loosing hold of each other guarantees that they’ll drown. She wants to forever close her eyes and recreate this moment perfectly. 

Breathless, she opens her eyes and stares into Ben’s coffee eyes. His thumb grazes her cheekbone and she leans into his touch. 

“Rey… Rey… I…” he gulps, “Rey, I love you.” She kisses his cheek and feels the sandpaper scratching of his cheek against her lips. 

“I know,” she laughs and nuzzles his cheek. “I think, I realized that a while ago, and just hid it from myself because I was too afraid to process the thought that someone could actually love me romantically.

“Do you?” Ben begins to ask.

“Of course,” she smiles. 

“When did you… Umm… Realize?” He sputters. His ears turn crimson. She quickly kisses one. 

“When I hyperventilated in the restaurant. Smooth, right?” She rolls her eyes and appreciates the sensation of laying her head on his shoulder. 

“Rey, why did you have a panic attack?” He looks so concerned. She bites her lip. 

“This only truth thing is biting me in the ass,” she sighs. “Because… I didn’t have a nice childhood. My mother used drinking, and in hindsight probably drugs, as therapy. We didn’t have much money, and whatever we had went towards the next bottle or needle. So, sometimes… Sometimes she let people use us,” Rey’s voice breaks and she swallows her tears.

“Rey, you don’t have to keep explaining. I… I already guessed.”

“You knew?”

“Rey, you flinched whenever someone tried to touch you and then… With Poe… Your reactions to drinking… I… Uh… Had theories.” 

Rey nods, but she pushes herself to continue, “Eventually, I was put in foster care. At first, it seemed so nice in comparison. But, most of the families, eventually, were abusive. I ran away. I hitchhiked out of Arizona and found myself living with Finn and Poe’s boss and her husband. I took the GRE once I aged out of the system. I planned to go to college. Then he died, and I just… Ran away again. And I haven’t stopped running since, Ben.” 

Rey sighs, “You keep calling yourself a monster, but look at me. I’m just… This broken thing. Touch scares me. I build these walls around me to protect me, but they just end up hurting the people around me… And, I don’t know how to just stay in one place. The minute things get tough or I start meeting people and forming friendships, I run. I built a life out of running away, Ben. And… I’m just a mess. Before you, I didn’t think that I could be capable of loving someone romantically. I just… I just thought that after the toxic sorta love I knew, I wouldn’t want anything to do with it. Yet, here you are with those eyes of your’s and you’re just so perfect.” 

“Rey, to me, you are perfect.” 

“I just don’t understand how. How aren’t you disgusted?” Ben sighs and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, then he leans away from her. 

Ben twists his forearms, and suddenly Rey notes raised white marks cutting across his wrists. They remind her of white handcuffs. She shivers, then tentatively strokes his scars. Ben grimaces. 

“Ben?” The question dies in her throat. Rey feels the dampness of tears against her cheek. She picks up his right wrist and kisses the raised skin of his scar. “Why?” She chokes.

“Why not?” His face twists into a bitter smile. It looks like he’d just eaten a lemon. 

“Ben, that’s not…”

“I know,” he sighs. “I…Had some dark years. There was… Just… So much… I was drowning in guilt and hatred and loathing… And anger. I felt torn apart. I practically fucking killed my father, yet I still felt…No, I still feel angry at him. I mean… He was just such a shit dad, but he didn’t deserve to die, and I caused it. I fucking caused it. Then… There was Snoke… And his hands, his threats. I didn’t… I couldn’t go back home. Not after the pain I caused. My parents didn’t want me before. Why would my mother want me after I practically murdered my own father? Snoke offered tuition, an internship, hell… He even offered a job after graduation. He gave me an apartment. But…” Ben gulps, “But it wasn’t free, not really. I just realized the price too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was certainly an emotional rollercoaster for me.
> 
> When I write, I usually have an idea of the journey and the final destination, but I like to let the characters improvise and shape their world for themselves. Sighs... I never planned to have Ben attempt suicide in the past, but I found myself writing references to it in the dialogue during dinner and then I wrote that scene and it just felt genuine to Ben's experience in this story. 
> 
> I hope that you all have enjoyed the story so far! I left it at a bit of a cliff hanger, but it felt like the right place to stop. I think that they'll be about four to five more chapters or so before the epilogue. Thank you for reading and thanks for liking and commenting on this story! It means a lot to me.


	10. Chapter 10

Shame wells inside of Ben. He resists the urge to run away. Instead, he starts fiddling with the blanket. Rey already figured out that he’s Kylo_Ren; she’ll piece together what he meant. In hindsight, he realizes that he’s referred to it several times tonight. Self-loathing bubbles in his stomach. He feels nauseous. God, he’s a freak. Then the realization smacks him in the face: if anyone could understand him, Rey would. Hope sparks in his heart and his chest warms. 

Rey’s arms encircle him, he rests his head on the crown of her head. He sniffs her hair, and the scent of sunlight calms his racing heart. 

“Ben, I love you,” she pauses and the words leave him blushing and half in shock.

Sure, she implied that she loves him back, but hearing those words falling from her lips makes his heart race. He never thought someone would say those three simple words to him. He didn’t consider it possible. 

Rey swallows and continues, “Don’t blame yourself for what happened. It is not your fault. Please… I blamed myself for years after… Well, after everything with my mom and even with my some of my foster parents. Sometimes, I still blame myself. I find myself thinking that if I weren’t so broken, then maybe none of it would have happened. But then I realized that what happened to me wasn’t my fault. It didn’t occur because I’m fucked up; those people did it because they are fucked up. This Snoke asshole is manipulating you, Ben. You don’t need him. Leave him.”

Her eyes shine with such fire and passion. Ben swallows. His eyes drift down to her lips. He bites his lip, shaking his head to overcome the increasingly insistent fantasies. How can he explain how he signed his soul away, like Goethe and so many other foolish men did before him, to a devil in a golden suit with aquamarine-fire eyes and corpse-cold fingers? He should have seen the predator in Snoke by the emotionless sneer and contemptuous jut of his chin. But Ben blinded himself. He sprinted from his family’s haunted house and right into devil’s lair. 

“Rey, I should have realized what he was. I had a choice.”

“You didn’t know,” she insists, reaching out for his hand. He hesitates, then he brushes it off, and scratches his wrist. 

“But I should have!” 

“Ben, someday you’ll realize that the only one here who blames you is yourself.” 

Rey cups his cheek. Her eyes sparkle and, its cliche as hell, but Ben swears Rey shines brighter than the stars. His heart thunders and his pulse jumps like a jackrabbit. His stomach churns and ice-water runs through his veins. Snoke’s voice whispers in his ear, reminding him of all those slammed doors and scribbled notes. Ben reaches out for Rey. He takes her hand in his. He squeezes it, reminding himself that the dream siting before him and offering him love and understanding truly exits: she breathes air just like he does; she wakes up screaming just like he does. 

But then, she stares at him and reads a novel in the flicker of his eyes. Rey leans forward and offers him forgiveness with her lips. Redemption tastes like expresso and bubble gum. Ben looses himself in the act. Her hands trace his outline; simultaneously touching everywhere and nowhere. He needs to feel her. Ben tries to sketch Rey with his fingertips, but she slips away like water. Gasping, Ben breaks the kiss to gulp down air. He smiles at Rey. 

“Better?” She asks. Ben kisses her on the cheek. 

“I feel… Reborn…” He tastes the words as they fall from his tongue. 

“Hmm…” Rey scrunches her nose and quirks an eyebrow playfully. 

“What?” He reaches out and pulls her towards him. They lean against the wall and Ben savors the moment: constellations of city lights illuminating the pale orange and midnight black sky with Rey tucked under his arm. 

“You should come with me tomorrow,” she announces. 

“Okay,” Ben says. He leans down and tastes her lips again.  
…  
Rey wakes up to whistling and the smell of coffee. Sunlight filters through the windows, illuminating the apartment in a warm yellow light. Finn leans over the stove, flipping an omelet and whistling show tunes while dancing in place. She smiles and affection floods her veins. Five years, and Finn still whistles to show tunes. Some things never change. 

Finn turns around and smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She sighs. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Leia. She wanted to tell you both herself, and it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“It’s alright, peanut. Poe didn’t take it very well… But she’s Poe’s hero. He idolizes her. I probably should have cancelled on Rose… But…” Finn shrugs and slides his omelet onto a nearby plate. Then he turns back and gestures to the pan with his chin. “What one?”

“Sure,” Rey smiles.

She sidles up to the kitchen and takes two mugs out of the cabinet. Twisting towards the fridge, she grabs Finn’s hazelnut almond milk creamer. She fills her cup to the brim with coffee, then fills one third of Finn’s with creamer and the rest with coffee. She starts heading back to the wooden dining table, then stops when Finn clears his throat.

“Could you make me some coffee too?”

“I already poured you a cup,” she replies, glancing down at the two mugs in her hands, and continuing towards the table. 

“I have creamer in the fridge. It’s hazelnut almond milk. The container should be blue,” Finn continues with his back turned. 

“I know,” she laughs. 

“One-third creamer…” emphasizes Finn. He starts to poke at the edges of the omelet, and sighs when it isn’t cooked enough. 

“Two-thirds coffee. Pour the creamer first, then the coffee. I remember,” she laughs and slides into her chair. Rey sips from her yellow happy-face cup. 

“You really do, huh?” He nods to himself and flips the omelet. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here. For Rose. For Poe. For you. I’m a shit friend, but I do care. I swear I do.” Finn’s shoulders tense. He sighs and deflates. 

“Peanut, I don’t know what you’re trying to run from, but it’ll be there, with you, everywhere you go. It won’t go away by just ignoring it.” The words hang in the air with the gravitas of an oracle’s prophesy. Rey shudders, but bites her lip and nods. 

“I know, but I’m not quite ready to face it yet. I think… I think I will eventually. But it’s hard to change, Finn.”

“I’m not asking you to change. I’m just worried. Rey, will you ever tell us what you’re trying so hard to forget?”

“I don’t know,” she says and strokes the raised scars along her hip. The wooden floor creaks as Finn walks over with two plates of omelets. He nods to himself with furrowed brows. 

“I don’t want to be pushy, but it’s tough when you won’t let us in. You’re always pushing people away and keeping them at arms length. It’s like there’s this wall around you. I think that’s one of the reasons Poe got so upset last night…. About you and Ben, I mean. He feels bad about it, by the way. He told me about it this morning, before his run.” 

“Thanks. Ben…” Rey laughs to herself, shaking her head and glancing up at Finn before continuing, “Ben is… I mean… With Ben, the words come tumbling out. Sometimes, I don’t even need to say them, not really. He just understands. It’s like we both speak the same language,” she struggles for words and starts fiddling with her coffee cup. Finn sits there, methodically chewing his omelet and waiting.

She sighs and continues, “And… It’s not because I don’t love all of you guys. I really do. I’m just… Scared to let people in, I guess,” she shrugs and stares out the window.

She doesn’t want to look at Finn. She doesn’t want to see pity in her best friend’s eyes. She doesn’t want him to just see her as the broken things that she is.

Swallowing, she tries to explain,“And Ben… I never needed to let him in. He was already there. We’re in the same pit with the same wounds, but different backstories. And, I can help him because I understand him. Just like he can help me.” Finn sucks in a breathe. He nods quietly and takes a sip of coffee. 

“Huh, you really remembered,” he mutters. Then his jaw tenses and he sighs, “I understand. Sometimes, it’s easier when you have someone who went through the same stuff helping you. It’s why Rose and I started having weekly vent sessions after what happened to Paige,” Finn nods to himself with a half smile, then he looks up at her and continues, “You know how my childhood best friend died in a car accident, right? He was like an older brother to me. We lived right next door to each other our whole lives. Our families used to celebrate the holidays together, you know? We’d just have one big Christmas celebration and his aunts and uncles were practically mine, and my aunts and uncles were practically his,” Finn shakes his head and sighs. 

He grits his teeth and stabs his omelet. “God, I haven’t driven a car since. I still have nightmares. I was the driver. For a while after that, I just blamed myself and shut off my feelings. I went through the motions. I just towed the line and did what people told me: went to college, got a job, found an apartment, paid my bills, dated girls.” 

“Dated girls?” Rey knew that Poe is Finn’s first boyfriend, but somehow she never pictured Finn with a girl before.

She tries to imagine him sitting at a fancy restaurant with a generically attractive girl, but the imaginary girls keep shifting into boys. 

“Yeah, I knew I was gay. I figured that out soon enough,” Finn forces a laugh, “But, I just didn’t want to disappoint my family again. I still blamed myself for the car crash, and I figured that was my penance. You know, dramatic shit like that… Hell, I even dated a model before I met Poe. Fuck… I cheated on her with Poe… Damn, I was a prick,” he mumbles, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. 

“Wait… You dated a model?” When?” She asks. 

“When I worked at Starkiller,” he shrugs and takes a gulp of coffee. Rey follows suit. 

A door creaks, and she glances over her shoulder. Ben stumbles through the door, clad in PJs, rubbing his eyes, and smiling. 

“What did you do? I didn’t think he could smile,” mutters Finn.

“Hey…” Ben mumbles and starts to walk towards her. 

“Morning,” she laughs. Ben leans over her chair, rests his chin on her head, and wraps his arms around her. 

“My cup…?” He asks, reaching for her mug and taking a tentative sip. 

“You own a smiley face cup?” She laughs and raises an eyebrow. Finn perks up and looks at Ben. 

“Hux… Sarcastic prick,” Ben grumbles, but Rey hears a smile in the lilt of his bass voice. 

“Damn… I just lost a bet,” sighs Finn.

“Did you guys seriously bet about how I got this cup?” Asks Ben. He kisses her on the head, and starts playing absently with Rey’s hair. Rey’s heart flutters.

“Poe and I bet on everything. Wanna know how long I bet it would take you to ask about that?” Finn grins. His eyes light up. 

“Don’t tell me. I hate gambling,” growls Ben, he stops fiddling with her hair. 

“Weird… Okay.” Finn forces a laugh and raises an eyebrow at Rey. 

“Why?” She asks. 

“Dad…” Ben grumbles and rubs a hand through his hair.

He straightens up and stumbles to the coffee machine. He grabs a mug, fills it with coffee, and hurries back to Rey. She glances down at her omelet, bites her lip, and cuts  
it in half, then she shuffles half of it closer to Ben. She passes him her fork. He raises an eyebrow. She nods, and he smiles and takes a bite. Then he passes her the fork with another grin. She grabs her phone and quickly takes a picture of how the morning light embraces Ben’s bird-nest of a bed head and that unique warmth in her eyes that makes her stomach flip and flop like a fish. Finn groans in the background. 

“You two are making me sick,” he grumbles, “I mean, I like Disney… But it’s weird to wake up to this Beauty and the Beast routine, you know?” Rey rolls her eyes and kicks him in the shin. Ben’s eyes narrow and he turns to Finn. Finn gulps, “I’m sorry, I was joking!”

“Oh… Too bad… You’re tolerable when you’re not… You know… Doing that whole kicked puppy routine,” shrugs Ben. 

“Uh… Okay then..” Finn pouts. 

“See, you’re doing again,” sighs Ben. He reaches over and takes another bite of omelet. 

“Excuse me, but this is my normal face,” interjects Finn.

“Ehh… I’m with Ben on this. Sorry Finn, but you’re pouting,” shrugs Rey. She takes the fork and plops a bite of omelet into her mouth. 

“Seriously? You both are going to team up on me? It’s my face.”

“Exactly, so you don’t have to see it…” mumbles Ben between bites. Rey giggles, but bites her lip and schools her face into a serious expression. 

“You and Poe have teamed up on me plenty of times… Ben and I are just having revenge. And you have a lovely face, Finn.”

“What?” Ben asks. He drops the fork and stares at her with panic-stricken eyes. 

“Relax, I…” She blushes and bites her lip, “I prefer your face. You’re a masterpiece.” She explains. “Besides, it’s true. Finn has a photogenic face. I’m not the only who noticed. He even dated a model once.” Ben squints at Finn. 

“Hmmm… Square jaw and symmetrical features. Yeah, you’re right,” Ben mutters, then he stabs the omelet and takes a bite. 

“It wasn’t a big deal. She wasn’t famous yet, and we mainly bonded over jokes about bad bosses. I mean, it was at Starkiller. The place is full of them,” Finn laughs awkwardly. 

“Starkiller? You know I work there… Right?” Points out Ben. 

“Really? Oh, shit sorry… I didn’t mean you… I meant… Uh, you know? Snoke is just such a creep. Some of those rumors… Damn,” Finn fumbles for words. 

Ben’s jaw twitches. His fists tighten, and Finn’s eyebrows raise. Finn turns to Rey. She just shakes her head. 

Then Ben opens his mouth, “You said she… What was the model’s name?” His voice freezes Rey in her spot. 

“Phasma. Why?” asks Finn. He blinks in confusion and glances again Rey with a cocked eyebrow. Realization dawns on her. 

Ben kicks his chair back and snarls, “You’re that asshole?!?”

“What’s going on?” asks Rey. Ben towers over Finn. He growls, rakes a hand through his hair and turns to Rey. 

“That bastard!” Ben takes a deep breath before continuing, “That bastard didn’t even have the decency to break-up with her. She walked in on him and… Fuck… It was Poe wasn’t it?” Finn gulps and nods. 

Ben just rolls his eyes. “Poor Phasma walked in on her boyfriend…” he points to Finn “Having sex with fucking Poe in her bed. Then he just moved out and quit his job. Didn’t even have the decency to apologize to her face. He just left her a damn letter.” Ben whirls towards Finn. “You were her first serious boyfriend. You lived together. What the fuck? And what the fuck is with this apartment? New York is a big city. How the fuck did I end up roommates with you two bastards?!? And Rey…” He deflates, “Okay, that was a nice coincidence… But what the Hell?” 

“Finn… You didn’t?” He nods. “You did? Really?” Finn nods again. Rey sighs and rubs her temples. Then she grabs her mug and Ben’s. It’s a two cups of coffee minimum type of day. 

“Look, I’m really sorry. What I did…” Finn gulps, “It was awful, and I made a huge mistake and I ended up being a prick. I tried so hard to be straight… I wanted to be. I hated myself. I didn’t invite Poe over with that in mind. It just happened, and Phasma walked in at the worst time, and instead of being brave and apologizing I walked out and left. Would you tell her? That I was young and an idiot and I still feel sorry? Is she? Is she happy?”

“Yes, no thanks to you,” growls Ben.

“Good, she deserves to be happy,” Finn nods with a faint smile. Ben’s shoulder relax infinitesimally. 

“At least you regret it,” he growls. 

Rey rubs circles against the back of his hand. Her stomach churns. She feels echos of the pain Phasma must have experienced. Her mind flickers to the kind-hearted woman she met last night. Rey shakes her head and sighs. Ben swallows, takes a deep breath, and looks up at Finn.  
“If you weren’t Rey’s best friend and if Phasma wasn’t happy with a man far better than you’ll ever be, I would break your back,” Ben snarls. 

Finn’s eyes widen. He trembles, gulps, and frantically nods. Finn’s twitchy responses remind Rey of a squirrel.

Ben scrubs his face and exhales slowly. “Please, never tell Hux I just complimented him. The bastard will never let me live it down,” Ben sighs. 

The front door slams open and Poe prances in with a wide grin. 

“Hey guys!”

“No!” yells Ben, pointing towards the front door.

“What just happened?” Poe turns to Finn and Rey with a bemused smile. Rey feels caught between jealousy (how does he not have a hangover after the amount of tequila he drank last night? Rey might not drink, but she’s heard enough stories.) and wanting to laugh at Poe’s terrible timing. 

“Just no! No more!” screams Ben. He deflates, banging his head on the table and just laying there, “I can’t… You two… Fuck, I need to move out,” Ben groans. Finn gulps, grabs his plate, and scurries to the sink. 

“I’ll explain it later,” he stage whispers to Poe, who just nods slowly.  
…  
Ben feels like a tornado: he just wants to tear through this damn apartment, howling and destroying everything he can get his hands on, but he holds himself back. He has Rey. She wouldn’t approve of him trashing her friend’s flat. Instead, he slouches against the table and sullenly grabs her hand. Her thumbs keeps grazing his knuckles, and the  
feeling almost makes him smile. 

Then the realization that he’s sharing a flat with the asshole who broke Phasma’s heart twists his face into a scowl. She went to therapy for two years to get over her trust issues after what Finn did. Sure, Phasma always forces a smile and claims that she already had trust issues before Finn, but Ben still wants to smash Finn and Poe’s faces against a wall. Finn had to have know that Phasma’s father cheated on her mother. How could he, the first boy she entrusted with her heart, then go and cheat on her? 

Somehow these two idiots just managed to earn even more of Ben’s contempt, but for some reason Rey likes the fools. At least she bonded with Phasma last night. Rey will soon realize just how shitty Finn and Poe are, and, hopefully, she’ll slowly disentangle herself from those two. 

Ben twists to stare at Rey’s profile; she looks ethereal and eleven. He sucks in a breath. Somehow, she loves him. The knowledge calms the storm brewing in his heart. He exhales. He pulls himself up and turns to Rey. 

“Can we get out of here?” He practically begs. She smiles, and Ben forgets how to breathe. 

“Of course. Want to come meet my best friend?” She laughs. 

God, he really needs to record her laugh sometime. Ben knows he’s thought it before, but he really needs to actually do it sometime. He’ll miss it too much when she leaves him. His heart plummets and a chill crawls down his spine. 

He stares at her, and wills himself to memorize exactly how her eyes flicker between emerald and gold in this light and how the sunlight on her hair makes it look like she’s wearing a halo. He slips his phone out of his jeans and takes a few photos. Rey twists towards him and laughs. Snap. He takes a snapshot and smiles. He’ll carry around her smile in his pocket now. He just turned this split second into eternity with the snap of camera. 

Maybe that’s why he needs photography so much? It isn’t just because it’s his mask, a way to simultaneously hide from the world, while also forcing it to pay attention to him, but because every time Ben hears hello, he imagines the good-bye. He used to reach out, to beg people to stay, now he traps them in photographs. Snapshots won’t abandon him. 

Rey pulls him along, reminding him to grab his camera and whatever else he needs. He checks his pockets for his wallet, then slips his camera bag across his shoulder and nods. She smiles back at him and tugs him out of the apartment. They race down the poorly lit hallway with flickering lights and an unexplained buzzing. Ben hits the button for the elevator, but Rey shakes her head and points to the stairs. He shrugs and follows her down the stairs. In that moment, he realizes that he’ll follow her anywhere. 

Rey hums while they stroll along the streets hand in hand. He smiles and stares at her. He can’t seem to drag his eyes away from her for longer than a few seconds. She reminds him of a magnet. The street just seems to blur into shades of grey with the occasional flashes of color thanks to New York’s bodegas and delis. 

Ben takes out his own camera. He switches it on, then fiddles with the exposure timing. He snaps a photo. Rey doesn’t notice. He smiles and takes another. He glances at his camera. Usually, he doesn’t take such straightforward photos. Ben prefers trickery and illusion. He enjoys teasing his viewers. However, Rey isn’t a trick. She’s a walking daydream. He needs to capture her in film just to prove that someone as good as her can exist. 

When they reach a park, Ben hears a vaguely familiar husky bark. Placing the cap on his camera lens and tucking his camera across his torso, he blinks. He sees a shaggy, brown mutt and his heart sinks. Ben releases Rey’s hand. She doesn’t notice. She keeps waving at Chewie and his owner. 

Ben starts to back away slowly. Rey smiles and the dog runs towards her. Trailing behind, a beautiful brunette woman with intricate braids, calculating eyes, and frown line ambles towards Rey. Ben glances between Rey and his mother. 

Poe’s words from months ago echo in his head: someone like a daughter to Poe’s boss would couch surf at their apartment. Ben feels like a bus just crashed into him. He watches Rey hug his mother. A hand clamps down on his heart and he can’t breathe. Ben continues to back away slowly. Chewie barks, and Rey turns back towards Ben. She beckons for him to come. He shakes his head. 

Ben can’t breathe. He desperately gasps for breath, but his lungs billow uselessly. Rey runs up to him with that innocent smile of her’s and a question gleaming in her eyes. A thousand bees buzz inside of his head, and he can’t hear whatever she’s saying. Leia sidles up, and he wants to scream and tear something apart. Leia still holds herself with the back-breaking posture of a general. She raises her hands, as if to calm a wild animal. Ben growls.

Confusion clouds Rey’s face. She doesn’t know. Relief floods through him. Whip-fast, half-baked theories of Rey working for his mother had flown through his head, but that look in her eyes stills his heart. He takes a deep breath and feels his lungs fill with air. 

“Ben, what happened?” asks Rey. He just shakes his head. Leia smiles, and it sends shivers down his spine. His heart stutters and he tenses, ready to run. 

“I got to go,” he gulps. 

“Long time no see, Ben,” Leia smiles. Her cigarette-rough voice still has the ring of authority. Ben grimaces. 

“Hello, senator.” He spits out the words. Leia quirks an eyebrow and Rey continues to watch with confusion clouding her eyes. Then suddenly, her eyes widen and a spark of realization sets her face alight with understanding. Rey gasps, then tightens a hand on Chewie’s collar and slowly backs away from them. Ben fights the impulse to reach out and grab her wrist.

“Honestly Ben?” Leia sighs and rolls her eyes. Her voice tightens like a coiled snake. Ben flashes back to blaring the loudest music he could stand in vain attempts to distract himself from the rising tones of his parents arguing. 

“Mother… I… Received your audio message. I send my regards. I’ll see you at the dinner,” he forces the words out with feigned indifference.

Ben absently reaches for his camera. Its weight calms his racing heart. 

“Running away again, Ben?” There! He hears how her voice reels back, and he prepares for a verbal blow. 

“I’d really rather not talk about this right now…” He tries to deflect. 

“Yes, you don’t like talking much do you. I haven’t heard from you in over six years,” Leia huffs. 

She springs at him, but instead of ducking behind excuses and closed doors like in his youth, Ben explodes. The rant of his youth, the one he practically fell asleep grumbling to his pillow every night flows forth. The words taste acerbic, but Ben can’t hold them back.

“You gave up on my long before I gave up on you, mother! Or should I say senator? You never wanted me in your life. I wasn’t the poster-perfect child you could show off during campaign season, so instead you just tossed me away. And what about Rey? Is she your charity case? Another way to try and gain public sympathy? Oh, look at the kindhearted ex-senator taking a beautiful, orphan girl under her wing. Everything you do is for publicity. It makes me sick. You’re a snake. Did Rey know about me? Did you tell her the truth?” He wheels towards Rey. “My parents sent me off to live with my hermit uncle, and then, when he tried to sabotage my photography career, they believed his lies and disowned me! They never even bothered to ask me! They just cut me from their lives.” 

“They said you ran away…” Rey murmurs. She starts to walk towards him, reaching out with her right hand, but Chewie barks and jumps, tossing his head from side to side. Ben sneers. 

His father always cared more about that damn dog than his entire family. When younger, Ben wished to switch places with Chewie and sit beside his father while flying down the highway in search of adventure and adrenaline highs. 

“Ran away? Bullshit! I was thrown out.” Ben’s hands tighten into fists. Images of a packed suitcase, another hastily scrawled note, and the impatient honking of the taxi cab his mother hired to take him to the airport eclipse his vision. “They shipped me off to live with my uncle when I was thirteen without any warning, just a shitty note!” Leia rubs the golden locket around her neck.

“Ben, we did that for you.”

“Bullshit! If you were thinking of me, then you would have talked to me. You would have asked!”

“Ben, you weren’t happy with us.”

“So you think that means I’ll magically become happy with that insane hermit? That asshole nearly ruined my life. He tried to kill my professional career out of fear and spite… And you both believed him!” 

The words flow out of him, and he can’t hold them back. Frankly, he doesn’t want to. He dreamed of this moment throughout his childhood: the day he finally forced his mother to look at him and to actually see him, instead of having her eyes flicker over her projected idea of him. But Rey… He doesn’t want her to hate him. He doesn’t want to vanquish his nightmare and her savior. He wants to hold back for her, but the words keep falling from his tongue and they burn like bile, but they leave him heaving hate.

In that moment, Ben simultaneously stands in that park, yelling in broad daylight, a warped monster of a man who made a career out of peeling back these scabs and forcing blood and puss out of old cuts, but he also crouches in his childhood room with the midnight blue walls and the half-way built model airplanes and he’s clutching the hand of his awkward childhood self who shivers in the corner, covering his ears and spinning stories about stars and space with a dash of magic and sword fighting, a family legacy, and a destiny. 

But Ben long gave up such foolish dreams. He realizes now that never was and will never be the plucky protagonist, eking out a life in the desert and striding towards a destiny that could save the universe. Ben is the villain. He murdered his father and cursed his soul. Brick by brick, he’s tearing apart the legacy of his family and burning the rubble that remains. 

No, Rey from nowhere stars in the story of his childhood. She survived the scalding sands of the desert. She rebuilt the remains of his family. She became the child Han and Leia deserved. She took on the mantle that Ben let slip through his fingers. She confronted the beast with compassion in her gaze and love in her heart, and she tried to heal his wounds. No one before her tried. No one before her saw hope in his smile. Now she stands here, in this park, a confused heroine trying to weave together the frayed strands of Ben and his mother’s relationship. Maybe he can just take Rey’s hand and fix this. Maybe the villain doesn’t need to die at the end of this story. 

“Luke says that you were following a dark path…” Leia begins cautiously, but surely. 

His uncle’s name sets his veins aflame. Ben’s heart thunders and all vague, Rey inspired, hope of reconnecting snaps. Ben feels himself crawling back to his cave of misery, hurling insults and fury as he retreats. 

“Luke says a lot of crazy shit. He calls anything that lets you earn money falling to the dark side. He wants to re-establish a barter economy for fuck’s sake! And you trusted that psycho over me!”

“He’s my twin brother.” Leia reasons, her jaw tense and her eyes flint. 

“I was your son!” He howls, wishing those words actually meant something. 

“You acted out in the past…” She grasps at excuses and logic. Her voice doesn’t waver. He sees no hesitation in her eyes. His heart sinks. She never tried to understand him before, and she still hasn’t. 

“I grew up either having you guys either eyeing me like any outburst meant I was a delinquent or completely ignoring me. So, yeah, I yelled when your arguing kept me up till five in the morning. I stole money to buy groceries. You know that I had to skip breakfast and portion out the stale cereal that dad left behind for five days before I got desperate enough to do it, right? I forged your signature so that I could go on field trips. I was so rebellious.” Ben rolls his eyes. “Face it, you weren’t ready for a kid and you both should have divorced.”

He feels himself bleeding out; he’s tearing open the wounds of his past and presenting them to her in some madcap, last-ditch effort to finally hear her just tell him the truth; to hear his mother admit that perhaps she and Han weren’t ready for a child and that their failure isn’t his fault. 

“Benjamin Solo, you are exaggerating! You had a history of anger management problems. Your teachers said you were disruptive and you got into fights.” 

No, Leia continues to fight. Ben sighs.

“They’re called tantrums, and most kids have them,” he retorts. 

“Most children don’t have them at twelve.”

“They do when their home life is shit,”he snarls. 

“And the fights?”

“I was bullied. Han told me to be a man…”

He envisions the twist of Han’s mouth as he spat out the suggestion at his frustratingly effeminate son. Han spent Ben’s childhood forcing a circle through a square beg. Han wanted a scoundrel who blared classic rock and hot-wired cars. Han received a loner who played indie and took pictures. For his seventh birthday, Ben received a baseball glove that soon gathered dust on the upper left hand corner of his bookshelf. For Christmas, Han took him go-cart driving; Ben crashed in the first ten minutes and refused to get in the machine afterwards. For father-son bonding time, Han smashed a helmet on Ben’s head, plopped him onto his motorcycle, and raced down the scenic route; Ben threw up after ten minutes of begging his father to slow down and take him back. Han wanted a scoundrel who blared classic rock and hot-wired cars. Han received a loner who played indie and took pictures.

“You never listened to us, and that’s the one piece of advice you decided to follow?” Leia mutters sarcastically.

“There was a time that I worshipped you! I wanted to be like you two,” Ben admits. His hands shake. His eyes feel hot, and he can’t quite breathe due to the lump in his throat. 

“What happened?” Leia asks, reaching out for him. 

“I grew up.” 

“Ben…” Her hand reaches closer, and Ben’s skin itches. It feels like thousands of insects are crawling under his skin. The buzzing in his brain grows more pronounced. 

“Look… I just… Want you to know… I’m sorry about Han. I know it’s my fault. And, I just wanted to tell you… I’m sorry.” He chose on the words, but forces himself to say them. 

“Ben, you didn’t…” Leia begins. 

“I did though… He wouldn’t have gone out if it weren’t for me.” Ben’s cheeks feel damp. He bites his lip and imagines himself putting on a mask. 

“All these years, you blamed yourself?” Leia sounds shocked. Her eyes burn into him, and he can’t handle the heat of her gaze. He starts to turn around. 

“I should go…” He mutters. 

“Wait, Ben!” Leia reaches out for him again. The world shakes. His vision morphs into thousands of buzzing black and white dots. 

“I just… I should go…” The words fall leaden from his lips. He feels numb. 

“No don’t!” yells Rey. Ben gulps. 

He wants to reach for her hand, but instead he just keeps walking. He passes through the park gate, turning left randomly, and continues to walk. The world morphs like lava in a lava lamp. He only sees the ever-shifting blurs of crimson, grey, and black. Ben continues to walk, forcing one foot forward until the world begins to sharpen. Finally, he blinks and looks around. He spot his reflection in a shop window. The shiny, ebony lettering bisects his face, leaving half obscured and half a blank page of a boy with red  
rimmed eyes and a trembling blood-red mouth. Ben stares. Then, he takes out his camera and snaps a photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry it's been awhile. After that last chapter, things were starting to really heat and the emotional toll of writing such intense scenes just weighed me down. I hope that you like this chapter. All of the coincidences are starting to line up and shit is hitting the fan. Oh, and sorry for all the swearing. In my mind, this Ben swears a lot as a means of trying to make himself seem/feel more intimidating than he actually is. 
> 
> Sidenote... Gosh, Poor Finn and Poe. Finn and Rey finally have a nice friendship moment, and then we find out that Finn dated Phasma for about a year before cheating on her with Poe. I swear I don't hate Finn and Poe! In fact, I think they are both great characters and I like them a lot. It's just that Phasma's reactions to Finn's betrayal seem so poignant in the movies that I feel the best way to explain why she feels betrayed and bitter in a modern day au would be if he cheated on her. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading. Please consider commenting or giving kudos. It means a lot and fuels me to keep writing. Thank you for putting up with me and reading this fic!
> 
> Oh, and I have a tumblr now, so feel free to DM questions or the like. https://judelittlewanderer.tumblr.com/


	11. Chapter 11

Ben’s words echo in her mind, playing endlessly on repeat. She stares at Leia and compares the aging, regal woman before her with the absent and, perhaps, indifferent one of Ben’s childhood. Leia’s eyes flash and her jaw tightens, but she just takes Chewie’s leash from Rey’s hands and silently walks to a nearby park bench and pats the place next to her. Dimly, Rey moves forward. She wants to feel shock. But she can’t. Instead, it all just clicks into place with such startling speed and surety that Rey wonders absently if she perhaps knew all along.

As a rebel, a senator, and the president of an NGO, Leia Organa’s name soon outgrew the woman who wore it. Her name became a symbol. Thousands know the name of Leia Organa, who led hunger strikes and peaceful protests, who fed the impoverished and defended the accused. Leia lost herself to the legend. She forgot about the flesh on her bones and the grey in her hair; she ignored the beating heart resting in her ribcage and the sleeping boy waiting in her house. Leia Organa sacrificed her family to become a symbol of hope.

Leia clutches onto Chewie’s leash tightly with her mouth set in a ruler-straight line. Rey sighs and slouches into the bench. Chewie barks and wags his tail at them. Rey swallows the urge to just take his leash and leave. She spent too much time running away. Instead, she takes a deep breath. Rey turns to Leia and considers the woman. 

Ben has Mona Lisa looks, but Leia truly encapsulates the painting. Before elbowing her way to the front of the crowd, Rey imagined the Mona Lisa. She knew the countless songs and movies paying tribute to the immortal beauty of this painting. She fought tooth and nail passed tourists with sharp elbows and big feet to see this portrait. Then, as Rey stood there, staring at the Mona Lisa in the Louvre, she saw the cracks in the oil paint and realized how much smaller it appeared than the painting she imagined. Now, sitting on a park bench with Leia Organa, Rey sees the cracks. Leia has wrinkles and frown lines. She has grey hair and poor posture. She looks tired. Her name may live on, but she won’t.

“You were good to me,” she starts. 

“You’re like a to me daughter, Rey,” Leia states matter-of-factly, her hands tighten around Chewie’s red leash. 

“Remember the first time we met?” Rey’s throat tightens, but she force the words out. Leia nods thoughtfully. “You taught me how to braid my hair. You had this intricate hairstyle and I swore you were some sort of princess.” 

Leia chuckles and shakes her head. 

“You still do,” Rey continues. Leia swallows and nods. “And… For awhile, I wanted you to be my mother. I knew we weren’t related, but… I wished it. I thought that if I had grown up with you and Han as parents, then it wouldn’t have been so bad. I thought, maybe I wouldn’t be so broken.”

“Rey, you aren’t broken,” Leia interrupts. Rey smiles and squeezes Leia’s hand.

“We were good to you though, weren’t we?” Leia asks.

Her voice sounds like a string stretched taunt. Her shoulders look tense and she refuses to look at Rey as she resolutely poises the question. 

“You’ve been great. You both were,” Rey begins. 

“We were just too late for Ben,” interrupts Leia.

“Maybe it isn’t a question about being too late or too early. Maybe you just weren’t right for him.” Leia’s hand tightens around her’s, and her mouth becomes a hard, white line. “You and Han were great parents to me, but I was a seventeen year old who practically raised herself… Ben isn’t me. He has different needs. He needed you two to be around. He needed you both to talk to him, and to show him you cared.”

“Rey, we loved him.” Leia sounds pained. “We wanted to do what was best for him.” 

“Han told me the story of how you both started dating once… The I love you, I know line. And, I think that’s why your family fell apart.” She gulps. 

Leia turns to Rey and tucks a stray strand behind her ear. The older woman bats her eyes quickly and gulps, then she nods tersely. 

“I never really saw him, my son. I just saw the threat of our past and the promise of our future. His grandfather, my biological father, had anger management issues. He did some terrible things. And, when I looked at Ben, I swore I saw too much of my father in him. I was scared, for him, for us. I pushed him away..” Leia’s voice cracks. Rey wraps an arm around her shoulders. Leia sighs, “I made my gamble, and I lost my son and my husband in the process.”

“He’s not lost. There’s still hope.”

Leia stares directly into her eyes. Then, she unclasps the heart-shaped golden locket that perpetually rests at the nap of her neck. She balances it in her hand, then slowly clips it around Rey’s neck. Rey marvels at its weight. For something so small, it feels so heavy. Leia's doe eyes gleam, and Rey wishes she understood what that meant. But Rey, like Ben, never mastered the language of facial twitches and hand shakes. Rey sees the world through a series of snapshots.   
…  
Ben stares down at the photo he just took. He already knows what he’ll see, but the sight of it reflected back at him on the LED monster feels like a kick to the stomach. Ben tastes bile. He wants to throw his camera through the shop window. He wants to punch the brick wall until his knuckles feel warm and slightly sticky and their throbbing distracts him from the pain in his heart. 

But he stops himself, because a part of himself knows that if Rey sees him throwing a tantrum, she’ll leave him like all the others. Hell, after seeing him snap and attack Leia, Rey probably plans to avoid him at all costs. She may have said that she loves him, but no one can love a monster. He warned her, but words don’t carry the same weight as images do. If she sees him now, if she looks at this photo, she’ll realize the sad truth of Ben Solo. She’ll leave him. 

Gripping the camera, Ben bites back a growl. He stares at the image of a man at war with himself: caught between the light and the dark, left confused, torn, and alone in the midst of the chaos waging behind his mask. His thumb hovers over the delete button. Then he sighs and continues walking.   
…  
At first, Ben tries to tear the world apart with the click of his camera. His hands tremble with the need to take everything apart and bare the ugly truth of the world, while transforming the beautiful into another misshapen, hideous thing. He clicks and he snaps with a reckless abandon. He bares his fangs and howls at the world through these photos. They feel sharp and they burn. Staring at them feels like being stabbed with a serrated knife. 

Then, the lessons of his uncle and the words of his Rey echo in his mind. A bucket of ice water kills the fire inside of him. Ben takes a deep breath. He holds it. He releases it slowly. Then he looks down at the camera clutched so tightly between his hands. He has white knuckles. He relaxes his grip. The sounds of the city continue on in the background. 

Ben anxiously flicks through his most recent photos. The sight of them twists his heart. They hold so much pain, so much confusion, so much mockery. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to hurt others. He just wants people to understand him. He just wants people to listen to him. But he’s walked along this winding path too long to know how to choose another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks so much for reading! This chapter is a lot shorter than usual, but it feels right to end it here. Please leave comments and kudos! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	12. Chapter 12

Rey sits alone on the park bench. She stares blankly at her surroundings and scratches abstract patterns into the tan pock-marked wood by her right knee. No children run through the grass. No lovers smooch behind the trees. A wave of loneliness crashes against her chest. She struggles against the feeling. 

Chewie whines and strains at his leash. Rey looks down at the pony sized dog with his shaggy cappuccino coat and wise eyes and forces a smile. Chewie comes up to her and licks her hand. Rey bites her bottom lip, focusing on the increasingly blurry emerald outline of the tree a good four meters in front of her, and swallows. Her head throbs and she struggles to piece together where Ben fits in his jigsaw puzzle of a family. 

She knows Han and Leia. Leia left her sweet little notes before work. Han taught her to drive. Chewie slept at the foot of her bed. They threw her a birthday party with a homemade cake. Leia burnt the cake and Han turned up thirty minutes late and tipsy, but the memory still makes Rey smile. When she looks back to the year she spent with the Organa-Solo family, her memories hold the warm nostalgia of a Polaroid picture. 

However, Ben’s childhood lacks the warmth present in her memories. Instead, it sounded overcast and chilling, haunted with the constant looming threat of his grandfather’s legacy. Rey thinks back to the argument between Leia and Ben that transpired about an hour ago, it felt like both participants were yelling at each other from behind sound-proofed glass. Their words never connected. Then again, Leia’s eyes never focused on the man in front of her either. When Leia stared at Ben, she was looking at the ghost of her father. Rey wonders if Leia ever gave Ben a chance.

Rey wipes her eyes roughly with her empty hand, then nods at Chewie. His tail wags and he rises from his spot on the grass. Rey glances at her phone, notes the blank screen, and shoves the contraption in her pocket. Then she grabs her camera and switches it on. Spotting a lone crow flying in the sky, she snaps a photo of it once it dips low enough to be framed in the foreground by the outstretched branches of a nearby dogwood tree ladled with heavy cream blooms. She glances at the photo, but feels unsatisfied.

Still, Rey clutches her camera and continues to click the shutter closed at every new sight. She wants to mold the morning’s melancholy into something beautiful. It’s the only way she knows how to cope. Besides, she need to send Ben a message he’ll understand.  
…  
Rey shuffles the keys into her hands, balancing several grocery bags and Chewie’s leash, while trying to jab the keys into the door. Chewie tugs against his leash and one of the grocery bags falls. Rey sighs. Using her free hand, she twists the key and pulls the door open. Chewie pronounces inside. She starts picking up the can of black beans, bag of rice, and other contents of the fallen grocery bag, then her phone starts going off in a series of beeps and chimes. She looks up at the ceiling in exasperation, then notes the potential water-damage she should warn Finn about. Chewie barks. She finishes shoving the groceries into the bag and stumbles into the apartment. 

After setting the three grocery bags down on the dining room table, she looks at her phone. Apparently Phasma added her on WhatsApp and tried to call her five times. Raising an eyebrow, Rey unlocks her phone and quickly hits the button to call Phasma back. The phone chimes for a few seconds, but then there’s a click.

“Are you with Ben?” Phasma asks. 

“No… Is everything alright?”

“He’s not with you? Shit…” Phasma sounds frantic. 

“What’s the matter, Phasma?”

“It’s probably nothing…” 

“But…?” Dread burns in the pit of Rey’s stomach. 

“It’s stupid and I’m probably overreacting… But, Hux has been trying to get in contact with him all day. We wanted to invite you both out for dinner this Friday, and Ben hasn’t been picking up and the last time he went radio-silent he…. Never mind.”

“He what?”

“Just, it wasn’t good.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Phasma?”

“It’s not my story to tell. But, Rey, would you do me a favor?”

“What?

“Could you help me search for Ben?”

“Sure, where should we meet?”

“In front of the Guggenheim. He goes there sometimes… Hux already checked the Met and a few other spots.” 

“Okay, just let me check his room. Maybe he left a note or something?” Rey hears a sharp intake of. breath. “I just mean to tell us where he went.” Phasma releases the breath. Rey gulps.

Phasma just confirmed her fears. She races to his bedroom, slams open the door, and spots an increasingly familiar head of curly black hair resting on the glass panes of the door leading to the fire escape. A odd, but comforting warmth spreads through her chest. Rey releases the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. 

“Phasma, I found him.” 

“We buzzed the flat for practically an hour.”

“He’s on the fire escape. He probably didn’t hear.”

“Just smack him for me please, and tell him to never do this again,” Phasma states. 

“Oh, I will.” 

“Good, and tell that idiot I’m glad he’s here,” Phasma sighs. 

“Me too.” Rey nods to herself. 

The corners of her mouth quirk into a tired smile. She tip-toes to the fire-escape. When she cracks the door open, Ben’s head falls and he flails. Twisting around, he pops his earbuds out and glares. Then his eyes meet her’s and the anger drains out of his scowl. Instead, he juts out his jaw and pouts like a five year-old at a sibling’s birthday party. Rey shakes her head and ruffles his hair. He huffs indignantly, but he doesn’t scoot away from her. She slides down next to him.   
Wordlessly, she takes his hand out of his lap and places it slightly above her knee. Ben turns towards her with a furrowed bows and pursed lips. She meets his gaze and braids their fingers together. His eyes flicker to her lips. When they meet her’s again, they appear a shade darker. In that moment his eyes remind her of the night. If she stares into them long enough, she realizes that aren’t quite black. Just like the night sky, his eyes hold some secret that leaves her rooted in place with baited breath, waiting for the answer. A car alarm goes off, and Rey jumps. 

Ben blinks and shakes his head, then forces a grin. The cacophony below increases in volume as several voices join the New York fray. grimaces, looks at her, and swallows. This thumb trails warm paths across the back of her hand. Rey rests her head on his shoulder. Ben stiffens for a second, but then relaxes. His thumb continues to caress her hand. A tendril of warmth wraps around Rey’s belly. 

“You know Leia,” Ben states. He stares down at the bustling city streets. 

Rey itches to grab his chin and force him to look at her. She wants to read the novel of emotions displayed in his eyes. Instead, she fiddles with inseam of her jeans. 

“She and Han looked after me for a year,” Rey says. 

The words fall flat. They can’t encapsulate all the Leia and Han did for Rey. They don’t explain how these two gave her a home, albeit temporary, but the first place Rey could sleep without waking up screaming in the middle of the night and fumbling under her pillow for whatever pillaged knife she stole from the kitchen during the first walkthrough. But Rey knows that if she were to tell Ben this, it would only push him to continue on this path of self-imposed exile. He’s aching to punish himself. She won’t hand him the whip. He’ll have to find another way to hurt himself. 

“So you were there when?” He extends the last word, imbuing it with meaning. Even if he hadn’t bothered to do so, Rey expected this. She’s worked through this entire conversation in her head at least ten times since Leia left her alone in that park. Every time, Ben brings up that night. Each time, she wishes he wouldn’t. 

“The night he died? Yes.” Ben nods, so Rey continues, “Ben, it wasn’t your fault. He chose to go. He wanted…” Rey’s voice breaks, “He wanted to save his boy.” 

“So it is my fault,” Ben nods to himself. He rubs the bottom of his shirt between his thumb and forefinger. His   
shoulders tense. 

“No, I just said it wasn’t, Ben,” she sighs. 

“But you said…” he argues. He disentangles their hands, and his freed hand forms a fist. She reaches out, and wraps her hand around his. 

“That Han decided to act like a father for once, yes. He had a lot of guilt, you know? He wanted to fix things with you. He didn’t say that in words of course, but he did. I saw it.”

“You can’t…” Ben tears his hand away. Rey sighs, then squares her shoulders. 

“I did. The first time I met him, I saw he was running from something. I pieced together the puzzle during that first month. He didn’t try to hide it.”

“What?” Ben finally turns to look at her with confusion clouding his night-sky eyes and his mouth forming a hard line. 

“He felt like he failed you as a father. He blamed himself and ran away. I met him on the road, and he took me in as some sort of penance. He wanted to make it up to you, but you weren’t around… So I was your substitute. But Ben, I’m not you…” 

It’s true. Every morning, Han and Leia would look at her sitting there at the breakfast table and their eyes would graze over her. Instead, the two of them saw another, someone taller with broader shoulders, someone like Ben. Sometimes their mouths would pucker for a B, before hastily stretching into an R. Then guilt would flicker in their eyes, and they’d glance at each other and their mouths would curve into tight smiles. 

“Rey… You’re better. They wanted a child like you, not a freak like me,” Ben sighs. 

“That’s not true,” she argues. 

“Rey…”

“Leia gave me this locket…” 

“Huh?” Ben turns towards her. 

“It’s shaped like a heart,” she plows onwards. 

“… Okay?” His eyes scrunch with confusion. 

“Want to look inside?”

“… Sure… But Rey… What does this have to do with?” He shakes his head, as if trying to dislodge water from his   
ears. 

“Just look at the pictures, Ben,” Rey commands. 

She fumbles in her pocket, until her fingertips grasp the warm metal. Pulling it out, she passes the heart-shaped gold locket to Ben. Numbly, he takes it from her. His eyes flicker to her, and she forces a smile and nods to him. Gingerly, Ben opens the locket. His face tightens. He gulps. Ben’s eyes meet her’s and his plush lips twitch. 

“Oh,” he sighs, “Rey… You aren’t…”

“Nope, but you are,” Rey forces out the words. 

They have serrated edges and tear up her throat. She gulps, trying to push down the tears and disappointment.   
Rey stole the locket from Leia’s bedside table the night after Leia and Han first told her they thought of her as a daughter. In that moment, she expected to see her picture there. The hope made her heart float like a helium-filled ballon. Instead, she’d seen a pale puppy of a boy with ink hair, elephant ears, and features that he hadn’t quite grown into yet glaring dourly besides Han who wore his signature smirk and that same leather jacket. Rey had bitten her lip, swallowed her tears, and returned the locket to the bedside table. 

Today, when Leia gave her the locket, Rey had glanced inside; it held the same, worn-out photo. Somehow, that sight still causes tears to well in her eyes and her heart to ache. 

“I don’t…” Ben begins. 

“You’re her family, Ben,” Rey interrupts quickly. “She loves you, Ben.” Rey sighs, “And… I love you too.”

“You do?” His hand seeks out her’s and they sit there with their hands twined together, staring at the world beneath their feet. The people look like dolls. The apartments resemble cardboard boxes. Rey’s heart aches; it burns like tiger balm on a sore muscle.

“Yes, silly,” she forces a laugh and tucks a strand of his nearly shoulder length hair behind one of his ears. He blushes and fiddles with his hair, trying to hide his ears again. She rolls her eyes, and re-tucks the hair behind his ear. 

“But I… But I… I’m a monster?” Ben reaches for his camera, but she stops him. 

“No you aren’t. You’re Ben Solo. You’re family is a mess, but that doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you human,” Rey states. 

“How?” He chokes on the words. 

“How what?”

“How can you love me?” Ben looks so young. Rey sees herself in his eyes. She spots that malnourished five-year old hiding in the closet and dreaming of an island. 

“Because I see you.” She wishes someone told her that all those years ago. She still aches to hear these words. Rey thinks that someday Ben may say these words to her, but right now he needs them more than her. 

“That makes no sense…” Ben shakes his head, blinking rapidly. 

“In your photography… You try to put on this mask and taunt the world, but sometimes there are glimpses of just Ben.” She messes with his hair. His nose scrunches, but a smile tugs at his lips. 

“That’s Kylo Ren. That’s not me,” Ben argues obstinately. 

“Ben Solo, you are a talented photographer, but everything that I have seen is 100% Ben.” Rey rolls her eyes. 

“But…” He reaches for his camera. 

“God, you are so stubborn. Give me a sec.” 

“Rey, I don’t understand…”

“Here, this is how I see you.” 

She reaches into her camera bag, flicks the on switch, and then clicks through the pictures until she lands the one she took of Ben in the late afternoon sun. The light hugged him like a lover. It illuminated his hair and molded the man into magic. He reminds her of an angel in this picture: his eyes alit in amber; A shy smile pulling at his strawberry lips; his hair encircled by a halo of light. It steals her breathe away. She can’t look away. She never handed someone her heart before. She’s guarded it zealously for all these years, but showing Ben this photo scares her more than the thought of tearing out her own heart, tying a pretty ribbon around it, and giving it to him on a silver platter. 

“Rey… I…” Ben gulps.

His eyes shift from the night-sky to warm coffee. They pierce her. She struggles to breathe. She feels like a butterfly on display with needles stabbing through her wings and holding her still. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to. Staring into his eyes, she feels the desperate need to pack her bags and hop on a plane dissipate. She just wants to stay here and continue looking into his eyes. His eyes whisper the words he has yet to say. Gulping, Rey does the brave thing.

“I know. I saw. I love you too.”   
…

She’s sitting there with her eyes that can’t decide between green and gold, so they merge the two and leave him wondering how to photograph the ceaseless shifting shades of her mercurial eyes. In that moment, he decides he could dedicate the rest of his life to capturing the emotions in her eyes. The art community would thank him for it. But Ben wouldn’t do it for the fame, he wants to spend the rest of his life by her side. 

There she goes again, reading his mind and opening his eyes. She promises him forgiveness with her lips and love with her eyes. Ben can’t seem to grasp how he managed to trick Rey into loving him, but he’s grateful anyway. He didn’t believe it at first. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea. But as he stares at the photo she took of him, her words solidify in his mind and his heart pumps hope through his veins. 

She loves him. She knows of his past, but she still loves him. She sees him. She sees both the darkness and that light that fight for dominance within his very being, and she stretches out her hand and offers him acceptance. She doesn’t ask him to change. She just wants him. No one ever just wanted Ben. Everyone looked at him and saw a ghost of their desires or their fears. Han wanted a regular son. Leia fears a reincarnation of his grandfather. Snoke wants a self-mutilated monster. Rey just wants Ben Solo. Now, he aches to give her exactly that. 

Ben reaches out and caresses her cheek. Her skin feels silken and warm and real. His hand tightens around her own, and he finds himself marveling over how their hands fit together like puzzle pieces. 

He glances down at the city and marvels. It all looked so bleak and monochrome before, but now he notes the hint of red in the bricks of nearby apartment buildings and the cobalt of the car parallel parked on the street. He spots two lovers holding hands and leaning towards each other as the walk in tandem. He glances at Rey and wonders if one day some couple will stare down at them as he and Rey wander the city streets hand in hand and happy. 

Her eyes meet his, and soon the two of them are stumbling forward on fawn legs. He pushes open the door and she collapses onto his bed. Something about the site of Rey resting on his black duvet makes his heart stutter. Instinctually, Ben takes out his camera and snaps a photo. He needs to make this moment immortal. Rey laughs. She leans forward, pulling him to her. They melt into each other. Part of him hopes they’ll always stay like this: two halves of the same person, offering up the love each half craves with the meeting of two warm mouths and the shifting two of different shades of skin. 

…

When he wakes up to soft sunlight filtering in through the glass-opened door, Ben turns and marvels at the woman in his arms. He closes his eyes, counts to ten, and peeks. Rey still lies in his arms. His heart beat quickens. Staring at her legs intermingled with his own, Ben thinks of that philosophy course he took during university, and the words of Aristotle who talked about soulmates and humans with four legs, four eyes, and two hearts reverberate through his mind. Looking at Rey’s face, he starts to wonder if that old Greek guy was onto something. Ben smiles. He caresses her hair, closes his eyes, and dedicates himself to memorizing this moment. 

… 

Eventually, Rey wakes up. First, her fingers twitch. Then, she shakes her head and her eyes pop open and she jumps. Her eyes meet his and she relaxes and shuffles back into her spot in his arms. Her head rests on his chest. She can probably hear his staccato heart. Rey smiles up at him and he finds himself smiling back. His face feels sore. He hasn’t smiled this much in years. 

Ben kisses her hair. He gulps down the question forming a lump in his throat. Rey reaches for his hand and intertwines their fingers. He squeezes her hand three times. Her eyes glitter and she kisses his cheek. For the first time in his life Ben feels truly content. He’s clutching a miracle and she seems determined to stay. As long as she’s willing to let him follow her, Ben thinks he’ll be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! I wanted to post something tonight, and this felt like a good stopping point. For once, I wanted to leave everything on a sweet note. Next chapter will be painful, but until then these two get to enjoy life in the eye of a hurricane. 
> 
> Well, we are reaching the end... Looks like we only have 1 or 2 chapters and a potential epilogue left. I hope all of you have enjoyed this. I want to apologize for any grammatical errors. I have no beta, and, honestly, if I re-read and edited this, then I'd probably never post anything because I'd just not have enough confidence and the self-doubt would get in the way. 
> 
> For those reading Crutch, I decided to just focus on finishing Snapshots, so I will go back to it shortly. 
> 
> Please give kudos and comment. Comments brighten my day and give me the confidence to keep posting. Have a nice day and thanks for reading. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Two weeks have passed in the hazy bliss of new love. Rey walks around with her head in the clouds and her hand in Ben’s. The world appears in technicolor swirls and Rey rushes to capture the beauty that surrounds her. Being with Ben makes her notice things her eyes would graze over before. She spots flowers about to bloom. She notes how suddenly the world seems full of happy couples.

Sleep comes easily when she’s nestled in his arms. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t spend hours tossing and turning and punching her pillow and kicking off the blanket in a desperate attempt to beat sleep into submission. When she closes her eyes, she doesn’t have blood-soaked nightmares. Instead, she just sees Ben’s smile and his adorable ears.

But a faint voice in the back of her head keeps warning her that no one has loved her enough to want her to stay and that good things don’t last. So when Rey tells him she loves him, she braces herself for the moment when Ben decides to leave her behind. He says he’ll never abandon her, but she’s never heard candy-sweet promises like these before, and lollipops always melt in her mouth, so she’s sure these sentiments will disappear too.

So in the meantime, she’ll love him until he won’t meet her eyes and his warm words of love cool into lukewarm smiles, then she’ll pack her bags and get on a plane. Because merely the haunting promise of an indifferent good-bye falling from his lips causes the air to whoosh out of her lungs. Rey’s not ready to actually hear him say those words, so she promises herself she’ll leave before she ever has to hear them.

* * *

 

Poe won’t meet her eyes. Finn fumbles for excuses every time she invites him to dinner. Rey called Rose once, but her phone kept ringing until Rey finally heard a click and the false-sweetness of an answering machine’s mechanical recordings. Most mornings, Rey’s hands itch and anger licks at her insides. More often than not, she swallows down acrid challenges at the coffee table when her eyes meet Finn’s own questioning, chocolate-brown pair. In these moments, Ben’s hand reaches out for her fist and rubs circles across the back of her hand until her fists loosen and her tight snarl of a smile melts into a relaxed grin.

* * *

 

An alarm beeps insistently. Rey groans and twists away from the infuriating sound. She nuzzles her pillow. Ben’s arms tighten around her waist, and he leans forward and kisses her on her forehead. His chin scratches her cheek. She mumbles a complaint, but he just chuckles and kisses her again. The alarm continues its urgent dings. Ben sighs. She hears a clattering sound. Something falls and Ben swears softly to himself. Rey turns around.

Blinking slowly, her eyes adjust to the morning light filtering in through Ben’s patchy, threadbare curtains. Ben slouches over his phone, rapidly swiping away alarms with passive-aggressive huffs of annoyance. Rey laughs. He throws an arm across her shoulders and nuzzles her neck. Heart hammering, Rey bites her lip and glances at Ben’s discarded phone. Then she ducks out of his reach and feels around for her pants. Ben’s reaches out for her, but she slides out of bed and starts pulling on her pants with obstinate determination.

“I don’t want to go to work,” he pouts.

“You say this every morning,” Rey lectures.

“I mean it every morning,” he mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning against the iron-wrought headboard of his bed.

Despite the deceptively relaxed pose, one of his hand tightens into a fist. With his wavy ebony hair, porcelain complexion, midnight eyes, and tendency for mental self-flagellation, he reminds her of a Byronic hero from some nineteenth century gothic romance. She wants to laugh, but instead her stomach twists and a hand tightens around her heart.

“Is Snoke still being?” She doesn’t finish her question.

She can’t quite force the words out, and she doesn’t want to hear them hanging in the air. Rey wants to save Ben; however, she knows that Ben must choose to save himself.

“Yeah…” He sighs and slouches further down.

“Maybe you should quit?” She edges in the suggestion.

“What I would do then?” He shrugs hopelessly, chewing on his lip and itching his left forearm.

Harsh, scarlet trails flare into existence. Rey reaches out and stops him from continuing to scratch.

“I’m sure another magazine would hire you. Or… You could try freelancing, like me?” Hope quivers in her voice.

She wants to pry Ben free of Snoke’s clutches. She’s never seen the man, but merely his name makes her shudder. His name feels like unexpected ice cold fingers stroking the back of her neck during the haze of a lazy midsummer morning. Rey hopes that eventually her fanning the dying embers of Ben’s self-confidence will cause a spark to burst forth and bloom into a comforting campfire of confidence and self-satisfaction, but so far no warm words have worked. So she wraps Ben in a blanket of her love and hopes that will suffice.

“Rey… It’s a competitive field. I don’t think…” He groans.

He twists his hand free from her and tears at his hair. She reaches out to stop him again.

“You’re talented. There are plenty of options out there for you” she interrupts.

Ben gulps. “I don’t think…” Ben shoves the words out of his mouth.

She notes how his shoulders tense. He reminds her of a deer frozen in fear.

“I know,” she interrupts him again.

This time, she cups his chin and forces him to meet her gaze. His dark eyes brighten and a small smile pulls at the corners of his lips. He wraps his arms around her waist and hugs her tightly. Rey’s arms encircle his shoulders. She promises herself that she won’t let go until his own arms loosen. She bites her lip and swallows her fears. Ben’s arms relax and he slips away. Rey forces a grin and trails after him when he promises to make coffee.

* * *

 

 Sitting at the dining room table, Rey strokes BB’s silken coat. The cat twists onto its back, so she rolls her eyes and tentatively scratches BB’s stomach. The cat’s eyes meet her’s, and Rey swears those brown cat eyes hold the intelligence of a human wrapped up in unrivaled mischievousness. She shakes her head, trying to throw the thought away with the flick of her brown ponytail.

She hears a beep. Rey glances down at the spider-web of cracks across the face of her phone. She needs to scrunch her eyes, but she notes a green notification. She chews on her lip, then her eyes flicker to the window. She swallows, clicks the notification, and taps out a reply. Within seconds, her phone chimes. Blinking, she re-opens WhatsApp and glances at Phasma’s answer. Nodding to herself, she stops petting BB and rummages around for her camera. BB meows indignantly. Rey ignores the cat. Twisting her ponytail into a messy bun, she nods to herself and strides through the door.

* * *

 

A bell chimes as Rey pushes open the heavy wood door. She glances around the warmly lit coffee shop with cherry wood walls and an assortment of worn leather coaches and iron-wrought chairs. Tasteful abstract art hangs on the walls and jazz music hums in the background. The shop smells of roasted coffee beans and faintly of vanilla. Rey taps out absent-minded rhythms on her thigh. Glancing around, her mind swims with estimates of how expensive the items on the menu must be.

She feels like the string of an instrument, being tightened until she’s about to snap. She chews on her lip and decides she won’t order anything and will just have water. Nodding to herself, she feels the anxiety loosen infinitesimally. Moments like these remind her of how she and Ben live in two different worlds. She sighs and inspects the assortment of customers: an elderly man with tufts of white hair in a well-tailored tweed suit sits in the corner near a tall gold lamp with an emerald colored shade; a middle-aged woman in a crisp off-white dress leans back against her chair and laughs regally; a harried mother with a french-braid and two energetic daughters of around the same age clad in matching dresses sits at a table near the window.

Eventually, she spots Phasma’s familiar platinum hair. Swallowing her nerves, Rey strolls over with forced casualness. Phasma smiles at the sight of her and gestures for Rey to sit down. Rey drags her chair away from the table, wincing when its metallic legs scrape across the wooden floor, and sits down on the edge of her seat. Phasma smiles and takes a sip of her beverage. Rey picks up the menu. She pretends to study its contents, while Phasma taps away on her phone with pursed lips.

Rey plucks at the knot of her bracelet, then takes a breath and forces herself to speak. “So, you wanted to meet?”

The invitation for coffee surprised Rey earlier. True, Phasma mentioned wanting to talk with Rey and perhaps even a photography session, but Rey assumed that the ex-model only said so out of a sense of duty.

“Yes! Sorry, I’m being rude. I manage models now, so someone’s always trying to contact me,” Phasma laughs lightly, then turns her phone down so that the screen faces the table with an apologetic smile.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” Rey quickly replies.

She closes the menu and turns towards Phasma.

The blonde woman smiles and shakes her head. “Perhaps, but I do. I always hated it when people ignored me in favor of their phones and now I find myself being one of those people,” Phasma rolls her eyes and forces a chuckle.

Rey relaxes and grins back. “Looks like photographers aren’t the only ones who never stop working,” she teases.

Phasma forces a laugh and nods. Her eyes flicker to her phone for a few seconds.

“Unfortunately, you’re right. I like all the models who I work with, but there’s always some emergency or another, and I’m always the first person they call,” Phasma shakes her head, but the playful glint in her eyes and faint hint of a smile on her lips causes Rey to suspect that Phasma doesn’t mind the chaos of her career.

“How did you find yourself managing models?”

“Well, I always knew that being a model was temporary, and the way that my managers treated me until I became famous always irked me, so I decided to become a manager myself. People, even others in the industry, so often misjudge models. We’re treated more like dolls than actual people. I wanted to help change that… So… Here I am,” she laughs with self-deprecation.

Rey nods.

“What about you, dear? How did you become a photographer?”

“It started off as a fluke, I guess. I was staying with this family…”

A wave of anxiety crashes over Rey. Should she just tell Phasma how Ben’s parents looked after her for a while? Wouldn’t Ben want to decide what to tell his friends? Besides, Rey typically prefers to avoid discussing her past. Her mouth feels dry. She swallows.

“Ben’s parents,” Phasma interrupts.

Rey swirls to face her and nods. “He told you?” She asks.

The previous anxiety slinks away. She slouches against the back of her seat. Its twisted metal digs into her back.

“He told Hux, and if he didn’t want me to know, then he would have specified,” Phasma answers with a definitive nod at the end.

“Then you also know…?”

Rey’s mind races forward, but it feels like she’s a hamster sprinting on its wheel and going nowhere.

“That you are good friends with my ex, Finn, and that apparently Ben is roommates with him… Yes. I guess it’s a good thing Ben never invites friends over. That would have been awkward,” Phasma forces out a laugh.

Her face looks like she just swallowed glass at a social event: torn between expressing genuine pain and some desperate need to retain hold of its neutral mask.

Rey squeezes her hand, and Phasma’s smile softens. “I’m so sorry for what he…” she begins.

“It’s alright. That was years ago. It hurt, but…” Phasma swallows down another imaginary shard and smiles with prozac cheeriness, before continuing, “I’m sure he had his reasons. In hindsight, I should have known…” Her mouth tightens into a thin white line. A blizzard of a backstory swirls in her robin-egg eyes.

“How could you?” Rey asks warmly, trying to assuage whatever guilt still storms within Phasma.

“There were signs, there always are. I should be an expert in catching cheaters, but I wasn’t used to being the one being cheated on, so I was naive and blind,” Phasma sneers. Her gaze turns sharp and glacial.

“Wait… Did you cheat?” Confusion swirls through her mind, as Rey tries to paint the scenario in her head.

“No! God, no. Never…” Phasma shakes her head emphatically and sighs, “My father… Well, he was a serial cheater.” Phasma practically spits the words. Her nose crinkles with disgust.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rey mumbles.

Part of her knows that these words will sound glossy and plastic, but she has no clue what could possibly sound genuine in this situation, so she thrusts forth the only phrase that comes to mind.

“It’s alright. The fourth time my mother found him in bed with another woman, she finally divorced him. I had issues trusting men for awhile, but… Therapy does wonders,” Phasma rolls her eyes.

“That’s terrible…” Rey begins, still struggling to find adequate phrases.

“Yes…” Phasma agrees tersely.

“Do you talk to him?”

“I tried once… My therapist recommended it. But, I just couldn’t. Maybe one day.” The blonde’s nostrils flare.

“I think it’s admirable that you tried.” Rey meets Phasma’s eyes.

The pale chinks of ice begin to melt as Phasma’s gaze defrosts.

“Thanks. Enough of my family drama, please. How did Ben’s family influence you to become a photographer?” Her voice sounds polished and poised, like some television news anchor.

“Well… They didn’t influence me exactly. They just had a lot of beautiful photos on the wall… And I’d always find myself staring at them. And, I found this camera. I started messing around with it, and suddenly it felt like I had a voice. There were always all these thoughts and feelings buzzing in my head, but I didn’t know how to share them with people… And pictures… Pictures let me communicate with the world.” Rey stares at the splashes of paint on one of the pieces of artwork nearest to her, while the fumbled explanation spills from her lips.

“You both are so alike,” Phasma murmurs, then she blinks and squints at Rey. “Wait, you said that there was just a DSLR laying around… Could it have been Ben’s camera?” Her voice raises with excitement.

“I guess. I never thought about it. Han and Leia didn’t really talk about him much,” Rey shrugs.

“No surprise there,” Phasma sneers.

“They are good people. They just weren’t great parents.”

“That’s a nice way to put it.”

“It’s the truth,” Rey states.

Phasma quirks a brow. Rey stares back at her. Finally, Phasma tuts and her shoulders relax. Phasma rubs her face, and Rey notes the black shadows under her eyes.

“Sorry, Hux and I are just a tad protective of Ben. He’s like a younger brother to me. And Ben’s a walking bag of complexes. I’m not saying it’s entirely their fault… But they practically abandoned their son.”

“…Abandoned… yeah…” Rey mumbles.

Her throat tightens and a familiar fire burns in the pit of her stomach.

“You alright?” Phasma asks.

The blonde reaches for her, but Rey politely ducks away from her touch. Phasma squints and a flash of emotion brightens her pale blue eyes. Rey swallows down her own complexes and forces a grin.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you want to get out of here?” She gestures towards the window.

Outside on the busy streets of Manhattan, hundreds of black-clad commuters push through the mounting mass of bodies and towards their destinations. It reminds Rey of salmon swimming upstream. However, the warm light of golden hour beckons and her fingers itch. She absently begins reaching for her camera.

“But you never ordered anything?”

“I’m not thirsty,” Rey replies.

“Oh… Ah, I always planned on paying for your drink, dear. I invited you to meet me. It’s the least I can do.” Phasma quickly reaches the correct conclusion.

“No, it’s fine really. I think the lighting outside looks promising,” Rey deflects.

“You both even deflect in the same manner…” mumbles Phasma, while shaking her head and tucking her phone into her purse.

“What?”

“You and Ben are two sides of the same coin,” explains Phasma. She slips on the strap of her black leather crossbody purse and smile up at Rey.

“That’s an odd way to put it,” mumbles Rey. She flicks her camera on and closes the camera bag that doubles as her purse.

“Odd, but true. Who hurt you, Rey?” Phasma’s eyes cut through Rey.

She shivers, suddenly feeling cold. Then her instincts snarl and her shoulders tense.

“You know, you’re really starting to sound like a therapist right now…” She forces herself to sound jovial, but it takes more effort than she can spare, so an edge of sarcasm cuts through her lilting voice. She clenches her jaw. Phasma shifts in her seat and raises both hands in a mock surrender.

“Sorry, I’ll stop prying. It’s just… Ben cares about you… A lot. And, I think that you’re good for him, but I just want to be sure that you two will be good for each other in the long run. He’s more delicate than he looks.” Phasma’s words feel like a dam, holding back hundreds of stories.

Rey can’t decide if she wants the dam to burst or not.

“So you’re afraid that I’ll hurt Ben?” She asks, tentatively.

“Afraid? No… Not exactly. I just want to get to know you. Because when two broken people find love in the other's arms, it can either be healing or toxic.” Phasma looks into her eyes, like a reader analyzing a piece of literature.

Panic seizes Rey’s heart. She jumps up, and her chair clatters to the floor. A few nearby customers turn towards her with raised brows and varying degrees of interest. Quickly, she rights the chair and smiles at Phasma.

“So, how about that photography session?”

“Alright.” Phasma nods and rises regally from her chair.

Together the two glide out of the coffee shop and onto the busy street. Rey relaxes and gulps air. It tastes of sweat, garbage, and hot dogs, but at least she can finally feel the air filling her lungs again.

* * *

 

Rey starts speed-walking the moment she leaves the coffee shop. Absentmindedly, she ducks and weaves to avoid bumping into the crowd. Her year in China honed her ability to slip through crowds like a fish through water. There, everyone plowed forwards with heads ducked and eyes glued to cellphone screens. She notes Phasma’s startling pale hair and skin in her periphery vision, and nods to herself, before continuing to slide through the crowd. Finally, she finds a suitable location. Rey stops and squints at the reflective glass surface of the indiscriminate skyscrapers before her. She fumbles with the camera as an excuse to avoid looking at Phasma for a few more seconds. The blonde hovers over Rey, and her shadow darkens the cement at Rey’s feet. Sighing, Rey looks up and tucks the camera under her arm. Phasma smiles and quirks a brow.

“This doesn’t seem like your usual setting,” she points out, waving her arm for emphasis.

Rey shrugs and clears her throat. Typically, she doesn’t direct or pose the subjects of her photos. Rey prefers candid shots that capture the world around her. However, this time she has a plan.

Chewing on her lip, she takes a breath and starts explaining the concept, “You probably don’t need the lecture, but after you texted me, I looked up the Ice Queen series for a reference. I thought it would make sense to study the photos that made you famous and do something contrary.”

Phasma nods and glances curiously at the skyscrapers.

“At first, I wanted to create the antithesis of Ben’s portrayal of you. I was aiming to melt the ice and show the warm heart underneath. I mean, I still intend to do that, but just through a different method than my usual one. I mean, none of this is my usual, I guess. I’ve never worked with a model before,” Rey rambles.

Phasma smiles and nods. Rey clears her throat and fiddles with her camera.

“When I was looking through the series, I realized that Ben didn’t take photos of you his usual way. So I thought that instead of doing something predictable to represent the end of the Ice Queen, I’d follow his example. So, I want to play around with the concept of masks and how the way we present ourselves can change overtime or even be morph depending on the situation. I want to show you taking off the crown and no longer being the Ice Queen. I want to see you as Phasma, looking at herself and seeing her flaws and her strengths. I want to capture you staring yourself in the eye and confronting your legacy,” Rey instructs while turning Phasma to face the skyscraper directly.

Phasma nods. She squints and stares at her reflection, then her eyes flicker to Rey.

“Interesting. Most just continued to build on Ben’s concept. A few tried to chip away at the title, but their efforts never really amounted to much.” Phasma smirks and a playful gleam illuminates her eyes. 

She eyes Rey, probably trying to size her up or intimidate her. Rey can’t quite tell. She finds Phasma a tad jarring. Around Ben and Hux, she seems like an elder sister. However, today Rey’s seen her claws and her smiles. Phasma’s yo-yoed between extremes and Rey’s about to break her neck if she continues trying to follow along.

“Yeah, I figured, but I think it’s still worth trying. You’re not really that cold-hearted of a person underneath it all; you’re just very protective of the people you care about. I want to show that nurturing side of you, instead of leaving you encased in ice.” Rey shrugs.

“Even after I practically interrogated you?” laughs Phasma.

“You were trying to protect Ben. You said it yourself.”

“Huh, I like you,” Phasma announces.

“Thanks, I guess? Um… could you talk about Hux and Ben. Maybe how you all met? Or how you started dating Hux?” Rey edges.

She looks through her camera’s viewfinder and side-steps to the right in order to have Phasma standing in the center of the photo. Rey decided to only capture Phasma’s head and shoulders for this. Ben’s shots focused on Phasma’s physique; they emphasized the model’s amazonian proportions in order to enhance Phasma’s otherworldliness. Rey will do the opposite.

She needs to drag Phasma off of that pedestal and plant her firmly on the ground. Rey wants to show the world the beautiful domesticity that Phasma carries within her. She wants people to observe how Phasma’s eyes brighten and her face relaxes whenever she talks about Hux. Phasma laughs quietly and launches into story after story. Her eyes light up, her smile softens, and she burns as brightly as a candle. Rey starts snapping away.

The evening melts into comfortable conversation and the click of a camera. When the sunset illuminates the skyscraper in shades of crimson and vermillion, Rey captures the shot. The sunset’s reflection baths Phasma’s face in warm shades, while the model’s eyes have the velvety glean of a mother starting indulgently at a misbehaving child. Rey purposefully cut the photo so that Phasma’s storm grey off -the-shoulder top doesn't show and therefore won’t ruin the color pallet. Instead it appears as if the blonde beauty were staring into the center of fire unclothed after having risen from the ashes. The vaguest blur of Rey’s own reflection hovers just over Phasma’s shoulder, as if to represent either the constant threat of being replaced or how Phasma accepts her role as a shepherd of the next generation. Rey likes to believe that most observers will note the expression in Phasma’s eyes and chose the second interpretation, but she decides to leave it ultimately up to the viewer. Sometimes a loose thread or open-ended question gives us the answers we need.

* * *

 

Ben leans over the camera stand. His back aches, but he gestures for his assistant, Mitaka, to angle one of the lights in order for it to reflect off of the gleaming, reflective black background. A model clothed in scarlet leans against her bare-chested male compatriot with one ring laden finger pressed against her bright red lips and a gleam in her mahogany eyes. Sighing, Ben stomps forward and positions the male so that he’s clutching onto this girl as if she’ll keep him from drowning. Then, he reminds the girl to play coy and toy with the boy.

A dozen shots later and he feels the back of his neck prickle. Part of him swears that the temperature in the room just dropped. Mitaka gulps and meets Ben’s gaze. Both of the models tense. Ben shudders, but schools his features into a mask of indifference and turns to face his mentor.

Snoke stands in the corner clad in an impeccable charcoal grey suit, clutching his Samsung and tapping his foot impatiently. The elderly man scowls, and it causes his anger red scar to twist. Ben’s stomach churns. He cracks his neck and stumbles forward. With his beady, calculating eyes, elongated form, and shiny bald head, Snoke closely resembles either a snake or a vulture.

Ben and Hux have debated this on and off since they were both hired. Ben thinks of Snoke as a vulture: always looming over Ben’s shoulder, watching him with sharp eyes and a twisted, famished expression. Hux claims that Snoke’s elongated form and calculating eyes could only belong to snake. For good measure, Hux always points out that you usually can’t tell when a snake with strike, and no one knows when Snoke will either.

Either way, staring into Snoke’s scorching blue eyes causes Ben’s heart to beat against his chest, like a prisoner bangs against the bars of his cage. A vacuum of fear sucks the air out of Ben’s lungs, leaving him sputtering and seeing buzzing white and black dots on the edges of his vision. Waves crash against Ben’s ears. He can barely hear anything besides the cutting steel of Snoke’s own voice.

The previously airy room shrinks before Ben’s eyes. Everything around him seems to darken. The models disappear, then Mitaka pops out of existence. Now, he can only see Snoke’s unnaturally elongated form. Those pale blue eyes burn into Ben and sear a claim on his skin. Ben fights the urge to kneel. Instead, he stands still and waits.

Clearing his throat, Snoke launches into a lecture, “You took leave two weeks ago, did you not?”

“I was sick,” Ben mumbles, looking at the ground before Snoke’s feet.

“Sick?” Snoke sneers.

Ben flinches. He grits his teeth and continues to stare at the floor. “Yes,” he forces the word out of his mouth.

“Do you think me a fool?” questions Snoke.

“No,” Ben states. His jaw tightens.

“Then why do you lie?” asks Snoke, striding forwards and tucking a strand of Ben’s hair behind his ear.

Ben swallows down the twisting snakes of anxiety and fear slithering up his throat. They settle in his stomach instead.

“I…” “When I found you, I saw what every mentor aims to see: raw talent and, beyond that, something truly special, the potential of your bloodline, a new Vader,” Snoke wheezes.

With each shuddering inhalation of breath, Ben winces. Closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, he prepares for the impact of each carefully chosen word. He practically memorized the lecture.

“Now, I fear I was mistaken. You lost to an amateur, some girl with a shitty camera who never took an art class in her life. You failed. You lost. Your grandfather would be embarrassed to know how low his kin have fallen. You are no Vader. You are just a little boy hiding behind your camera,” Snoke rasps.

His voice rumbles like thunder. Ben braces himself for the storm. Snoke inhales slowly. He stands less than a foot away from Ben. The young man squares his shoulders. Snoke smacks him. Ben blinks in shock. He winces, but stands still. Snoke reaches out and plays with a strand of Ben’s hair. Then, he rests his other hand on Ben’s bicep. Ben jerks, then tries to still himself.

The entire room seems shrouded in shadow. He cannot see anything besides those eyes that burn through Ben’s chest and inspect his soul with calculating eyes. Snoke’s tongue flickers to his lower lip. Ben’s lungs billow. He can’t breathe, but he forces himself to stand there and pretend. The vibrating dots flood his vision. Ben fights for air. Snoke smirks, then caresses Ben’s arm and strolls out of the room. When the door clicks shut, Ben sinks to his knees and gulps down lungfuls of air.

Then the heat in Snoke’s word sparks Ben’s rage. Ben growls. He sees red. His hands tighten into fists. He swings and connects with something solid. A thrill electrifies his heart. He laughs and swings again. Vaguely, he hears a gasp, but at this point he couldn’t care less. He sees only red. When the fire of his fury flickers and dies, he blinks. The world comes into focus. He destroyed everything besides his camera. His eyes meet Mitaka’s, who wedged himself between Ben and the two models from Phasma’s agency. Shame washes over Ben. Both of the models quiver in fear. Their eyes reflect a monster. He is a monster. Ben’s cheek feels damp. He idly brushes aside his tears and clutches his camera to his chest. She’ll realize what he is and abandon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this! I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Firstly, I want to thank my extraordinary beta-reader, amziedragon, she's not only been sweet enough to proof-read and edit Snapshots, but she's also helped me with pacing and characterization decisions. 
> 
> Secondly, I decided to make the dinner its own chapter, so Snapshots will be extended. This chapter already seemed quite full, and I didn't want to take away the importance of the dinner scene by stuffing it in here. I'll try to update quicker instead; although I will admit that this upcoming week will be a tad chaotic (moving, visas, etc). 
> 
> Please comment! I love to hear all of your thoughts, and I'll certainly reply when I have time. 
> 
> Have a great day!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love a family gathering?

Rey clutches his bicep muttering about never wearing heels again. They trudge along the sidewalk, weaving through a hodgepodge of pedestrians. He smiles nervously, but the fear flooding his veins distracts him. Ben can’t seem to see his surroundings, only Rey. He runs a hand through his hair, and Rey reaches out and interweaves her fingers with his, promptly stopping him. 

With one hand resting on his bicep and the other crossing his stomach to grasp his hand, the two must look like some ridiculous knot to onlookers; however, her touch anchors him. If it weren’t for the weight of her hands on his body, he’d probably float away, lost in the churning sea of his own anxiety. Rey bumps his shoulder with her head playful and flashes a smile. Ben can’t decide if she’s his lighthouse or his anchor. Either way, he couldn’t survive without her. 

Squeezing her hand, he lets Rey lead him into the small bistro with fashionably ambient lighting Leia reserved for her dinner party. Ben begrudgingly admits that the place certainly seems photogenic. An absent part of him considers asking for a card in case he needs to do a photo shoot at a restaurant sometime in the future. He glances around, curious as to the harrowing emptiness of the place. His hand tightens around Rey’s own and she quirks a brow and answers his unvoiced question. Sometimes he swears Rey can read his mind. 

When younger, Ben devoured mythological tales. He sailed through  _ The Odyssey  _ and Greek mythology before branching out and exploring legends from around the world. 

At some point, Ben landed in Asia and discovered that several Asian countries shared similar legends of a red string of fate that connects soulmates either via their pinkie fingers or toes. 

Having read about this at the rip age of twelve, Ben spent the month tying a red string around his pinkie finger and whispering greetings amidst the pillows of his bed every night before falling asleep to dreams of sailing through the seas and discovering a plucky, young girl on a deserted island with a red string around her finger and fire in her eyes.

One night, after two too many glasses of whiskey, his father witnessed Ben’s little ritual and laughed about it for an hour before shaking his head and sighing about a son with a head full of dreams and no sense. That night, Ben fell asleep with a sticky face, swollen eyes, and empty hands. He stopped dreaming of boats and islands. He verbally scoffed at fate and soulmates. However, he may have promoted red to the top of the list of his favorite colors for more reasons than shrugging his shoulders and rolling his eyes implied. 

Now, Ben glances at their intertwined fingers and the red walls of the restaurant and wonders if perhaps his dreams weren’t as foolish as his father claimed. The gapping, aching hole of an absence so innate that he could never describe the pain has healed. Ben can taste the air when he breathes. He relishes it. Not to mention, after that eventful discovery in the park, Ben and Rey discussed their interwoven pasts and the countless coincidences that led to their meeting. Now, Ben swears their life stories sound like dominos of fate with each event inevitably pushing them together. Each time he voices these sentiments, Rey laughs and says that all the coincidences that brought them together sound more like the poorly thought out backstory of some impatient, third-rate writer than fate. Still, she takes his hand and kisses his pinkie finger with a wink each time. 

Ben stumbles forward, shaking his head to dissipate his daydreams. According to Rey, Leia booked the whole restaurant. He nearly sneers at the rather ostentatious display of wealth and influence. For such a do-gooder, his mother certainly doesn’t mind wasting her wealth on these useless displays of power. Rey elbows him. He grimaces and follows her to the table. 

Leia sends them both a tight smile and gestures towards two chairs near the head of the table. Ben searches for any other available spot and nearly groans when he realizes that only those two chairs remain; knowing his mother, Leia probably planned this. Rey slips into the seat next to Leia, granting him a buffer from his mother. Nodding to himself, he decides that he should feign being hard of hearing if she brings up topics he’d rather leave dusty and untouched. 

Twisting and turning, Ben evaluates the scene. This entire affair reminds him of the last supper: a collection of loyal attendants dining besides the angelic Leia with her knowing smile, as she prepares to tell them of her upcoming death. However, the faces themselves resemble impressionistic blurs, instead of detailed ovals. They all blend together. He ought to pick out details and assign specific memories to each person, but instead they all just remind of hushed voices over the phone and slammed doors. Ben shakes his head. Really, it shouldn’t surprise him that he struggles so to recognize those closest to his mother. She never let him get close. He snorts. The only reason he’s probably here is simply for the sake of propriety. Rey elbows him and shakes her head.

Poe glowers at him from across the table. Ben sighs, willing himself to not roll his eyes at Poe’s pit bull tenacity: the man simply won’t let go of his preconceived opinions, especially those concerning Ben Solo. A few times over the past few weeks, Ben has woken up and overhead Poe ranting and raving about Ben’s apparently inherent evilness to Rey. Each time, Ben has grit his teeth and waited until he heard either a slammed door or the sounds of someone showering. However, the episodes continue to escalate. At one point, Ben even heard Poe refer to himself as the son Leia deserved. Rey slapped him; Ben never felt prouder. 

Various friends and associates of his mother attempt to drag him into the ever-growing din of discourse. Ben grunts and offers brusque remarks. Occasionally, he glances at his uncle, sitting next to his mother and chattering away without a care. Ben grimaces each time, and squeezes Rey’s hand. He repeats to himself that it’s just Luke, and Luke can no longer hurt him. He still flinches every time his eyes meet the clear, blue ones of his uncle though.

Rey jumps into conversations, adding her own input or sending a cheeky grin. Her eyes glimmer, and she just seems so vibrantly alive. Even at this event, where his mother should shine brighter than the rest, Rey’s the sun and everyone else just falls into orbit. The realization steals his breath away. Rey glances at him from the corner of her eye and squeezes his hand. He gulps. 

Waiters and waitresses appear, asking about drinks and offering refills of water in the meantime. The constant chatter continues in the background, while Ben forces himself to focus on Rey and the food presented before them. The waiters glide to the table, bringing course after course: sumptuous appetizers, enticing entrees, delectable cheese, heady wine, and luxurious desserts. As impressionistic figures from his childhood sip digestifs, Ben sneaks a glance at his mother, wondering when Leia will announce the news. Her eyes flash with steel and she clears her throat. Immediately, the casual conversations cease. Everyone turns to her. 

Leia smiles regally, takes a sip of her port, and begins, “Well, I have stage three colon cancer. I’ve begun treatment- it’s why I haven’t been at the office as often- but the chance of surviving at this point is quite low. I’ve always been a fighter, so I will fight this. I have hope that I can and will survive. I just wanted to thank you all for being in my life. Thank you.” She sits down and Luke pats her on the shoulder. 

Ben blinks, still digesting the news. True, she already told him in a WhatsApp message, but something about hearing her say it in person makes it real. Suddenly, he can’t distance himself from this. It isn’t someone else getting sick; it’s his mother who has cancer and is most likely dying. 

Ben swallows. He feels torn between laughing and crying. Instead, he rubs a hand through his hair and cautiously studies Leia, looking for signs of weakness. He can’t spot a single difference. Something about that just makes everything worse. She’s raging battle in her body, yet none can witness the plight. Ben shakes his head, still dwelling on the news that she just announced with the same matter-of-fact tone some might use to read the evening paper. 

His mother spent her life picking battles everyone told her she’d lose, and winning them anyway. Yet she’s dying of cancer. It just sounds too mundane, too commonplace. He’d sooner expect her to die at the hands of some hysterical protester or by the shot of some hired hitman. His mother’s life resembled a political thriller. He expects her to go out with a bang, not a whimper. Ben snorts. Poe glares at him, snarling and tensing like a tiger about to pounce.

“Why are you here?” 

“She’s my mother.”

“Huh, you certainly don’t act like it.”

“Poe, could you please just not?” Rey sighs. 

“All I’m saying is that it takes her fucking dying to get him to take his head out of his ass and act like a decent son. Hell, he wasn’t even that! He just sulked the whole dinner.”

Luke snorts. Leia glares at him. Shrugging, Luke defends himself, “The kid has a point.” Ben swears he hears something inside of himself  snap. 

“I have put up with this bullshit long enough. You are an outsider. You know nothing. Stay the fuck out of this, Poe,” he snarls. “And for Christ’s sake, who let Poe have tequila?” Ben glares at the party of people, but they all stare blankly back. 

“I’m more of a son to her than you are,” the tipsy man retaliates. 

“Poe, what is your problem?” Rey sighs.

“No, what is your problem? We all wait for you to open up to us for years, and yet you chose this freak over us, your friends! I just don’t understand it!” 

“Stop,” Leia commands. 

Ben’s mind flickers back to a story he’s heard hundreds of times about how Luke and his father met and became fast friends during a bar fight that Han started. Ben grew up listening to the mantra: Han always strikes first. Ben glances at his fist and laughs. Perhaps he truly is his father’s son. Then he looks at Poe with wolfish delight. 

Ben’s fist flies. He feels soft flesh and hard bone.  The weight of it draws out a smile. His knuckles ache, and he chuckles. He missed this. Licking his lower lip, he strikes out again and again.

Ben loses himself to the rhythm. He knows this dance of violence and blood. He understands how pain begets pain. The tinge of his knuckles promises broken bones and blooming bruises. Ben wants more. He can’t quite reach the itch and it taunts him. Poe’s fist connects with his jaw. White bursts eclipse Ben’s vision. Luke moves to intercede. Ben’s fist slams into Luke. He hears a crack. Ben Solo falls. The monster rises. 

* * *

 

Luke falls to the ground, and Leia races to his side, while Amilyn taps her phone a few times and quickly places it to her ear. Rey ducks between Ben and Poe. She promptly pushes Poe away, and he stumbles into Finn. 

Rey meets Ben’s gaze; his eyes burn like coals and he huffs out a laugh. Rey stares into the eyes of a stranger wearing her lover’s face.  Licking his lips like a hungry predator, he ducks around her, pouncing on Poe. Poe fights back, punching and biting. Finn and Rey hover over their significant others, trying to undo the knot of thrashing legs and arms. Luke shakes his head and mutters something about knowing Ben would cause trouble. Leia signs sadly, nodding to Luke. 

Snarling, Rey meets their eyes, shakes her head, then she grabs Ben’s shoulder and tries to haul him off of Poe. Ben twists around and snarls. Then his eyes seem to shift from the bloody thirsty predator back into those of Ben Solo. He blinks and shakes his head. Poe socks him. He grimaces, but disentangles himself. Rey drags them both out of the restaurant amidst the chaos. 

                                                                                   …

Rey tugs Ben down a few blocks and then turns, waving her hand frantically for a taxi. Bumble-bee yellow cabs wiz by and Rey reigns in her annoyance. Eventually, a car skids to a stop before them. Ben ducks inside and holds the door open for her. She slides in besides him. 

Throughout the ride he keeps trying to meet her eyes, but she resolutely stares out the window and watches the city pass her by without really seeing it. Her mouth forms a tight line. She hears the thud of his head against the glass. The taxi driver glances at them, then seems to shrug to himself. 

The silences stretches taunt between them. It pulls at Rey, as if trying to drag words out of her lips. She huffs crossing her arms. Ben’s eyes flicker to her. 

“Ben, you can’t keep doing this… The fighting, I mean. You’re hurting people, hurting me, hurting yourself. Amilyn called the police. You could have been thrown in jail.”

“I try… It just…It’s like something comes over me, and it’s so easy to just let go and fall. Besides, they all gave up on me ages ago. I bet most of them are just surprised I didn’t explode earlier.”

“Please, just… Consider going to someone. Get help. You can’t continue on like this,” she pleads, biting back her tears. Possible futures flash before her eyes, and most feature Ben clad in an orange suit behind bars. 

Part of Rey feels resigned. She recognizes the electric sparks of anger thrumming beneath the surface of Ben’s skin. She sees the boiling tar of self-hate and misery bubbling over within him. She knows of the darkness that calls out to him, beckoning to him with candy-sweet lies. Rey acknowledges that she cannot drag Ben away from the darkness that threatens to drown him. She can toss him a life saver, but he has to choose to take it. Rey bites her lip, and Ben takes her hand. His eyes meet her own, and she sees the war waging within him. Forcing a smile, she tries to send him strength. Rey hopes he wins this war. 

When they reach the apartment, Rey deliberates between sleeping on the couch or with Ben. He watches her with tense shoulders and baited breath. She swallows, realizing that to sleep on the couch would represent giving up on Ben Solo. Narrowing her eyes, Rey tries to decide what to do. Her heart pounds. Ben reaches out to her. He waits, staring into her eyes and pleading wordlessly. Taking his hand, she leads him to bed. 

                                                                                     …

Rey bolts awake. Gasping, she looks around. Her heart thuds in her chest, until she finally spots Ben. She stares down at Ben’s outstretched form; his hand reaches out for her. Rey caresses Ben’s cheek. He grumbles in his sleep, but doesn’t twist away from her. Smiling faintly, Rey regards her boyfriend with an ever-growing fondness. Then, an unfiltered thought slips to the front of her mind: soon, I won’t be able to live without him, she realizes. 

Rey chokes down the realization: it lodges in her throat, and she can’t seem to fill her lungs because of it. A constant loop of Ben turning his back and leaving her plays in her mind. He already ambulated his family. He could easily cut her off like an infected limb too. A rational voice points out that he hasn’t abandoned her yet, but then she thinks of her childhood of slammed doors and vapid farewells. 

Every hello is followed by a good-bye. Everyone leaves her. They toss her out like trash and never spare a second thought. Inevitably, Ben will join the formless crowd of smiling masses waving goodbye with farewells on their puckered lips. The mere image alone lodges a knife through Rey’s lungs. Every breathe becomes a stabbing struggle. Rey can’t bear to hear Ben say goodbye too. She won’t let another person she cares about abandon her. This time, she’ll be the one to say good-bye. 

Rey fumbles for her backpack, tears out her laptop, and pokes the bookmarks button. Fingers trembling, she taps out a quick search. Countless flights and discount deals flash before her eyes. Impulsively, Rey taps on one promising cheap fare to Thailand. She thinks of the vibrant islands and blanketing heat. She clicks the button and fills out her information. The computer screen flashes to promises of emailed confirmations and satisfied flights. She slams her laptop shut and swallows her screams. She reaches out and takes his hand, wrapping herself around it. Rey twists her pain into a malformed lullaby. He sleeps so peacefully beside her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there was a huge delay, but Snapshots is finally updated! Thank you all for reading this. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. Please tell me your thoughts either in the comments or via Tumblr; I really appreciate feedback. I hope you all like this chapter. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but I just wanted to start publishing again. 
> 
> Thanks amziedragon for being a great beta! :) 
> 
> (Warning, this chapter is unedited, since I just really wanted to get it out there before I started overthinking everything. I'll probably go through the whole fic and edit everything after I'm done with it.)
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/judelittlewanderer (Follow me or message me- I'm always happy to chat.)


	15. Chapter 15

The right call shouldn’t hurt this much. Rey left to prevent heartbreak, not to cause it. Yet somehow Rey’s heart feels like she tossed into a shredder.  And she caused it. She did this to herself. She tore them apart. She ruined everything.

The knowledge presses down on her shoulders. When she arrives at the airport, she flounders, standing still as faceless strangers surge passed her. Rey sees two paths before her: she could wave her hands, grab a taxi, and slip into bed beside him; she could continue to force one foot forward after the other, stumble through security, and get on that plane.

If she chose the first path, she would wake up in his arms and brush his hair out of his eyes while appreciating how the gentle morning light caresses his face. They would share a few months of blissfully domestic moments: the sort that seem so simple and sweet, but leave her tossing and turning in bed afterwards, flipping through the well-worn memories like a photo album.

Rey wonders if she could live off of those memories alone. Then tendrils of fear sprout. She swallows the sick realization: Ben is an addiction; the more time she spends with him, the more she needs him.

Still, Rey glances over her shoulder at the bright yellow cabs. She swallows. When she closes her eyes, Rey sees Ben’s wistful and painfully-shy smile. He has crooked teeth and that fact alone makes her heart pound. Rey begins to turn, but then those tendrils of fear tighten around her heart.

Rey envisions the arguments before them. Because she knows that eventually something would spark and a fight would explode between them. She imagines him searing her with the arctic glare he speared Poe with last night. She shudders. Ben has only ever stared at her with warm adoration. She couldn’t bear to see him look at her any other way.

Her doubts churn in her stomach. They squeeze her heart and whisper bitter truths. He will leave her. The longer she stays with him, the more painful his inevitable dismissal of her will become. Leaving him already feels like the time she had to pry a knife out of her side after being mugged: her heart racing, a sick nausea coating her throat,  her hands trembling as she tried to pull it out, the wrongness of a foreign object in her body and her fumbling attempts to rid herself of it making her senses revolt, the world freezing to a stand-still and honing in on the act.

Rey shakes her head. If leaving him after three weeks feels like being mugged, then being abandoned after dating for three months equate to murder. Just the sound of a farewell from his lips would share the deadliness of a bullet. She nods to herself, sighs, and walks into the airport.

  Rey fights just to go through the motions. She steels herself, and remembers that she is a survivor. She can do this. Rey reaches one of the automated checking machines and it scans her passport. She hits the appropriate buttons and it prints off her boarding pass.

Clutching the flimsy thing, she stumbles through security. Rey keeps glancing over her shoulder. She spots a head of ebony hair and her heart flutters. Then she sees the man’s face and her heart plummets. Rey rolls her eyes, reminding herself that life doesn’t resemble some cheesy romantic comedy.

She and Ben were always just two lonely, flawed people looking for acceptance in the arms of another. Ultimately, her scars and defense mechanisms would have sent him running. In the end, everyone leaves her. So, Rey steps onto the flight and settles into her seat. She digs the moat around her heart a little deeper. She will survive. Rey’s doing what she does best; She’s running.

                                                               

* * *

 

 

Ben wakes up cold and alone. He pats the sheets beside him, but they lack the residual warmth of her. She left. He swallows. The sheets feel so cold now. She must have left hours ago. His chest aches, and suddenly every breathe becomes a struggle.

Ben slumps back into bed, overcome with exhaustion. He pulls the comforter over his head and closes his eyes, entertaining the idea of wishing the world away. His alarm beeps. Ben fumbles for his phone, trying to slide the alarm off, then giving up and tossing it across the room. Sighing, he shuts his eyes and dreams of a button nose drizzled with freckles, a dimpled smile, and mercurial eyes.

                                                                  …

Groggy, he blinks and wonders what woke him up, then he hears his phone ringing. Ben sighs and flops onto his other side. He can’t keep staring at that glaringly empty spot in his bed. The pillow ought to have an indent. The comforter and sheets should appear tousled. Instead, it reminds him of a hotel room: perfectly intact and completely impersonal. Ben forces down air. He has to remind himself to breathe.

Looking at that distinct absence makes his aching emptiness expand. How can absence swell so? It reminds him of some infected wound; It burns and itches more with each waking moment. He slips into Morpheus’ realm.

As he does so, Ben clutches onto the hope that when he opens his eyes again Rey will be lying beside him. Then he laughs at his own ridiculousness. She left him. She gave up on him, just like the others. Ben forces his eyes shut, chasing after Rey in the only place he knows to find her: his dreams.

                                                                  ….

A door bangs open, and he hears frantic voices fighting frustrated ones. He huffs, then covers his ears with his pillow, and turns away from the door, trying to chase after the now elusive sleep.

The door to his room bursts open with a crash and a curse. Phasma rushes inside with her phone out and her thumb hovering over a button. Ben turns over to take in the scene.

Hux stands in the doorway, holding back Finn and Poe. Finn cranes his neck, trying to see passed Hux. Ben nearly rolls his eyes. Of course, Finn would act like a rubbernecker. Phasma’s eyes meet his and she deflates. Slumping onto the bed beside him, she rumples his hair and lets out a sigh of relief.

“Just let me sleep,” he grumbles. Hux scoffs. Phasma sighs.

“Ben, you missed work. We were worried,” she explains slowly with a tone edging towards cautious seriousness and worry. It reminds him of a mother telling off a child who just did something extremely dangerous. Ben blinks, his mind flashing back to the last time he heard that same tremor in Phasma’s voice. Then he shrugs off the images and drapes himself in indifference.

“I can miss one day,” he snarls, finally pulling himself up and leaning against the headboard of his bed.

“You missed two days. How long have you been asleep?” Phasma presses, her eyes flicker around the room.

Ben glances around and notices the state of it. For the first time in three weeks, it appears orderly and neat. Ben hates it. His heart aches for her mountains of clothes and discarded books. He can’t even spot a single abandoned mug. She cleaned. A laugh bubbles out of his chest, like puss from a infected wound.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be there tomorrow,” he grumbles, covering his eyes with his forearm.

“Ben… Maybe you should stay with us for a bit,” Phasma offers cautiously.

Her voice teeters like an unbalanced acrobat crossing a tightrope. She sounds so worried. God, he shouldn’t do this to Phasma and Hux. Not again. Ben drowns in his self-hatred; It tastes like salt and brine on his tongue.  

“I’m fine. I just….” He fumbles for an explanation.

He can’t describe the throbbing, infected ache of her absence. He lacks the words for it. Ben finally felt whole, and now he’s torn apart. Once again, he’s more of a black hole than a person. He can’t tell if an ignorant life alone, hollow, and desperate would be better than having experienced wholeness in the arms of another, just to lose everything. But then he closes his eyes and envisions Rey’s smile, and he knows the answer.

Finally, he chooses a word, “I’m just tired, Phasma.”

“We have a pull-out couch. The mattress is actually more comfortable than you’d expect. Please, Ben… Just…” Phasma gulps, pulls his forearm off of his eyes, and stares at him.

“Just consider it please.” She glances at Poe and Finn, still hovering by the door, and rolls her eyes. “Your actions have consequences. They hurt people. They hurt us,” she states.

Her words hang in the air, carrying the yoke of shared memories. Ben’s eyes flicker to Finn and Poe. Something passes over their faces. Irked, he grabs a pillow and throws it at them, but it smacks Hux instead. The ginger huffs indignantly, then steps inside to Ben’s room, and slams the door in Finn and Poe’s faces with a sneer.

“So, what are you going to do, lover boy?” Hux taunts, feigning indifference. Ben notices the black splotches under his eyes and the uneven edges of Hux’s nails.

“I don’t know… I think… I think she saw the darkness within me, and realized that I’m too far gone to save,” Ben sighs, tearing at his hair.

“Rey’s resilient and patient. I doubt it’s that simple,” mumbles Phasma. She stares out the window for a few moments, then glances at Ben. “Did she…?” Phasma bites her lip, then continues, “Ben, Hux and I adore you, of course, but… You are a very unique person. You haven’t dated much…”

“Or at all,” interrupts Hux with a sly grin as he saunters up to Phasma’s side.

“Or at all…” Phasma agrees, then continues, “I always presumed that if you dated someone and truly cared about that person, then said individual would probably have a similar upbringing.” She gulps, “She’d need to have the same wounds and carry the same pain. Ben, I don’t think Rey left because of anything you did. I think she left because her fears caught up with her.”   

The words echo in his ears. He blinks, trying to process Phasma’s news. In his nightmares, Rey always abandons him because she sees the bloodlust in his eyes and realizes Ben’s doomed state. But Ben knows of Rey’s scars.

His mind flickers back to the abstract masterpiece of white strokes stretched taut across Rey’s tan skin. He and Rey spent hours tracing the raised white lines prevalent on the other’s body with feather-light fingertip touches and growing understanding gleaming in their eyes.

Rey knows pain. She carries it with her like a beloved tattoo. To Ben that makes her the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. But perhaps she struggles as well? Rey seems so strong. Ben considers her a resilient fighter.

At times, he envies her fortitude. But perhaps his admiration blinded him? He ponders those moments where her face tightened and she startled like a cornered animal. Realization smacks him in the face and suddenly he wonders how he never realized exactly how Rey’s pain mirrors his own. She still struggles. The thought, so simple, yet so revolutionary, leaves him reeling. Rey suffers with a smile.

She seemed healed and whole, but she was just as broken and confused as him. He didn’t push her away; She ran. She only knows how to run. She told him so herself. He just didn’t listen. In his arrogance, he assumed that somehow this tendency dissipated when he arrived. Ben wants to smack himself for being such a fool. Still, his heart races. He didn’t ruin this. He didn’t scare her away, which means that he has a chance. Then, Ben chokes down his hopes. She’s still gone.

Phasma pats him on the shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair. Swallowing, he forces himself to meet Phasma’s gaze.

“Do you think…?” He chokes out the words, unable to finish his sentence. Ben feels torn between hope and terror.

“Some people don’t know how to stop running,” Phasma murmurs, patting his hand. Ben nods. He thinks of Rey, and suddenly something about that glint in her eyes reminds him of his father. Han Solo haunts him still.

                                                               …

Ultimately, Ben convinces Phasma that he doesn’t need her to babysit him. She hovers over his shoulder and deliberates about it though. So, Ben goes through the mundane motions of life to display his ability to survive. He can’t pretend he’s thriving, but he’s eating and breathing. At the moment, both acts feel like herculean tasks.

                                                               …

When the door shuts, Ben rushes to the fridge and takes out a beer. He takes a gulp, then another. He barely tastes the bitter brew. Instead, he deadens the voices in his head and the longing in his heart with each desperate inhalation of alcohol.

Still, questions swirl around in his head. They peck at him like a flock of birds. He wants to demand answers. Ben considers calling Rey. He thinks of his phone, lying somewhere in his spotless room, and his stomach lurches.

Shaking his head, Ben ignores that impulse. Instead, he continues to drink. When he finishes the first beer and his veins still feel cold. He steals Poe’s tequila. After several glasses, he finally feels warm again. But, the questions claw at his throat. So, Ben follows in his father’s footsteps, searching for answers in the bottom of a bottle.

                                                               …

At some point, Poe sidles up to him with an apologetic grin. Ben grunts, then takes another swig of tequila. Poe eyes the nearly empty bottle before Ben and gingerly takes it from his hands. Glaring, Ben grabs the bottle back.

“I’ll pay you back for it,” he spits, all artificial acid and fumbling fury.

Poe’s expression falters and confusion clouds his eyes, then he glances at the bottle and his eyes widen. He smiles sadly and shakes his head.

“Take it. Consider it my apology for being an ass,” Poe shrugs. Ben sputters. He places the bottle firmly on the table before twisting to stare at Poe. Poe just shrugs again.

“You really love her, huh?”

Ben snorts, “Of course.”

“Sorry it took me this long to realize,” Poe mutters. “I can be a tad stubborn…And protective. Rey, well she won’t tell us, but Finn and I have seen some of the scars. We know that someone hurt her, and we promised ourselves we’d never let Rey get hurt like that again. We were trying to be her little defense squad, saving her from the monsters out there. But, sometimes we get overzealous and make men into monsters. She was right. You’re a good guy, Ben. I’m sorry it took me this long to realize.”

Poe pats his shoulder and retreats to his room. Ben glares at the tequila bottle before him. He chokes down the feelings lodged in his throat and instead focuses on the fire in his belly and how warmth swims through his veins. Then that same warmth begins to defrost his heart, and his cheeks grow damp while the room tilts and whirls like a carnival ride.

                                                              …

The next morning, Ben wakes up on his side in bed with a bucket resting adjacent to his pillow. It feels as if someone is continually pounding his temples with a hammer. Sighing, he struggles to dredge up memories of last night.

Hazy moments come in and out of focus. Poe seems to star in several of these puzzle piece recollections. Ben automatically glances at his knuckles, but they lack any signs of bruising. Struggling out of bed, he trudges into the kitchen and finds a bottle of Tylenol besides a glass of water and a gallon of Gatorade. He blinks, rubbing his eyes blearily. Spotting the post-it note, Ben reads Poe’s rushed scrawl and shakes his head in bemusement. Perhaps he doesn’t completely hate his roommates.

                                                              …

Two weeks trudge by as Ben forces himself through the motions. Tiredness seeps into his bones and settles in his soul. He slowly learns how to breathe again; Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth, ignore the fire burning in his lungs, pretend he’s not choking on smoke.

Next, he remembers how to force each cement-encased foot forward. Walking to the metro leaves him winded. He nearly collapses each time he arrives at work, but Phasma finds excuses to drop by for lunch and Hux hovers around Ben throughout the workday like a house cat: feigning indifference and skittering away whenever someone suggests that Hux may care, but then slinking back to watch over Ben.

Once he masters breathing and walking, Ben focuses on eating: reminding himself that he ought to eat three meals a day, and forcing a food-laden fork through his lips twice daily. Ben would probably forget to eat at all if it weren’t for Finn and Poe. Finn keeps claiming to accidentally cook too much, while Poe continues to knock on his door and resolutely present Ben with two options: to eat with him and Finn or to take his meal in his room and leave the dirty plate by the door.

Ben lives by scratching off chores on his never-ending to-do list. He silences the part of himself that calls out her name during each still moment. He stitches together the aching hole she left. Ben strives to forget, but he keeps waking up and patting the place beside him, expecting to feel the warmth of another. He hears her laugh as he strolls to work. He sees her in the corner of his eye.

Rey haunts him. Her memory hovers on the edge of his consciousness, and, no matter how much he drinks or how tired he feels, he can’t exorcise her spirit. Eventually, he accepts that he doesn’t want to.  

                                                                      …

Snoke’s harried PA clears her throat. Ben looks up from the computer screen, scowling at her for forcing him to stop working. He nearly finished edits for his most recent shoot. Now, he’ll end up fumbling around for a good thirty minutes trying to regain his momentum. She seems to take in his expression and her eyes widen. Ben blinks.

He doesn’t recognize the exhausted, mousy girl quaking before him. She has brown hair, like Rey, except the shade doesn’t quite match. A hand tightens around his heart at the thought of Rey. He forces his face into a mask of indifference. She raises an eyebrow in question, then shakes her head minutely, and just shrugs apologetically instead.

Ben nearly chuckles. She must have heard rumors. Clicking his tongue, Ben follows her to the glass elevator. It spirits them away from his gleaming studio and up to Snoke’s cloistered, scarlet study. Ben shivers.

Snoke leans back in his black leather chair. Those pale, fire-blue eyes intensify and burn away Ben’s mask. The scarred flesh of Snoke’s pale cheek twists into a wolfish grin. Following protocol, Ben lowers his head before his boss.

His eyes flicker about, taking in the unfortunately familiar blood-red paint and decorative, antique samurai swords lining the walls. Snoke leans forward and his eyes flash with hunger. Ben’s heart races. Snoke dismisses the girl with brown hair not quite like Rey’s and she rushes out of the room. Ben nearly begs her to stay.

“You have failed me,” Snoke states simply.

“I’ve given you everything I have,” sputters Ben.

“Lies. You are unfocused and lack direction. What little talent you had disappeared overnight. Your work is unimaginative and boring. A random person on the street could take better photos than what you have shown me.”

Ben nods, his hands clenching at his sides. Snoke crooks a finger, gesturing for Ben to come closer. Obliging, Ben reluctantly shuffles forward.

“It is the girl. You have compassion for her, and it has led you astray. You skipped work for her, did you not?”

Snoke leans down from his chair. His long fingers, reminiscent of spider legs, hover in Ben’s periphery, but Ben bites his tongue. Snoke cups Ben’s chin and forces Ben to meet his eyes. Those clear, winter-sky eyes freeze Ben to the spot. He feels like prey caught in the hypnotic eyes of a predator. Ben nods, grimacing.

“How pathetic. You are not worthy of the name I bestowed on you, Kylo Ren,” Snoke sneers.

His long nails scrape against Ben’s cheek in a caress simultaneously loving and calculating. Ben’s anger stirs.

“My name is Ben Solo,” he corrects.

“Ben Solo is weak. He is a pathetic, sniveling fool. His own parents did not even want him. They threw him out like trash. No, you are Kylo Ren. You are my creation.” Snoke strokes Ben’s bicep and his fingers linger.

“I am not your creation,” Ben persists.

“Yes, you are! I made you! I shaped you from the spineless creature you were into a talented artist worthy of your legacy, worthy of Vader!”

Ben’s mind flickers to those old, black and white film photos Snoke showed him with nostalgic fondness: slightly off-kilter images with a pervading sense of innate wrongness that cause the hairs on Ben’s neck to raise and his heart to race.

He recalls how he couldn’t quite tear himself away from the compositions. They have a magnetic pull that drags one’s eyes to them immediately. At the time, Ben considered that art. He too wanted to demand the audience’s attention.

Now, Ben wants none of that. He realizes that the warped world presented in these photos was not a fancy effect to gain the approval of critiques. Anakin saw the world this way. His photos grant insight into the PTSD addled mind of a soldier whose body survived WWII, but whose mind never left the battlefield. Snoke worships this sick man. He wants to mold Ben into the image of his grandfather. Ben used to want that.

He believed pain fuels art. But Rey showed him otherwise. She left him, but Ben can still clutch onto her teachings. He can repeat every word she ever spoke to him until he has chiseled them into his memory and made them permanent. He can make her proud. He wants to make her proud.

“I’m Ben Solo,” he repeats. “And I quit. I don’t need you, not anymore.”

Snoke blinks and tears his hand off of Ben’s bicep as if Ben burned him. He opens his mouth, but Ben doesn’t wait to hear Snoke’s reply. Instead, he strides out of the room, feeling lighter with each step.

* * *

 

In her memories, Thailand appears postcard perfect: all bright colors and golden-domed temples, lush green forests and carved limestone islands, warm turquoise waters and welcoming tanned faces.

She recalls the pressing heat that leaves her a panting, sweat-covered mess sucking down Thai coffees and Thai teas from plastic bags. It all fades into a hazy, sunscreen-scented summer dream with a vaguely sweet aftertaste.

When Rey bought her one-way ticket to Thailand, she assumed that her pain would not follow her here. She told herself that the undercurrent of trauma she feels whenever she returns to the US exaggerated her suffering. Rey lied. Her chest still aches. Somehow her paradise morphed into her hell.

                                                                    …

After a week and a half or so of his relentless pestering, Rey finally agrees to Skype Poe. She crosses her legs and leans against the metal post of her generic, hostel dorm-room bunk bed while Skype loads. Soon enough, she hears the familiar chime and she hits accept. After a few moments, Poe’s face appears.

He lacks his boyish grin. He has shadows under his eyes and his skin appears a shade paler. Rey forces herself to smile. Poe clears his throat and mutters a husky hello. She blinks and raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak.

“How are you?” He finally asks.

“Good,” Rey replies. The words burn her throat. The ever-present campfire sparks burning in the pit of her stomach catch alight and flare into life.

“Bullshit,” Poe spits. Rey glances around the room, then turns back to her computer screen.

“Excuse me?”

“I said bullshit. Don’t lie. Or… At least lie well. I’m a fucking lawyer, Rey. I know a lie when I hear one.”

“Fine. I’m okay. Happy? Why did you insist on Skyping if you’re angry anyway?”

“Because this isn’t about me. You can’t just up and leave. That’s crazy! And you didn’t even leave a note. That’s bullshit. This shit belongs in a telenovela, not real life.”  

“I know it seems crazy, Poe! Yes, it was melodramatic and over-the-top… But, I just reacted. Ben was getting too close. Relationships always end: you either break-up or you die.”

“That’s a shit excuse. Stop being Emo and admit the truth.”

“What? No, I am not being Emo. It’s the truth.”

“You finally got vulnerable and let yourself care, and that terrified you. Admit it!”

“I didn’t… It was just a fling. It doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit, Rey. I wanted it to be just a fling, but it was obvious to all of us that you cared about him. Ben was special to you. He still is, isn’t he?”

“So what? It wouldn’t have worked out.”

“What gives you the right to single handedly determine that?”

“Besides… I’ve never even dated anyone before. How could the first guy I meet be the perfect one? That doesn’t happen! Not in real life. Eventually, I would have ruined it.”

“The fact that you admit he’s perfect for you shows I’m right. Why did you leave, Rey?”

“Leaving him… After being with him for such a short period was already the most painful thing I’ve ever done, Poe. If we… If we were together any longer, then I don’t know…”

“So you left to save yourself from some supposedly inevitable pain? God, that’s melodramatic, Rey.”

“I’m a survivor. I did what I needed to survive.”

“What did he do that made you assume he’d leave you? Because I haven’t seen any evidence that he would! He’s a shit son, but he wasn’t a shit boyfriend.”

“Because, everyone leaves, Poe! No one wants me, not really.”

“He did. You leaving…” Poe just shakes his head and glances furtively at his bedroom door. “You hurt him… A lot. We were scared for a while. We still are.”

“What do you mean? How is he?” Her heart pounds in her chest. She leans towards the screen, trying to read the answer to her question in Poe’s eyes. He just shakes his head, then he steels himself.

“Come back and fix things,” Poe insists.

“I can’t just come back. I know it seems simple in the long run, but it's better for us both this way. It’ll save us from heartbreak.”

“But you both are already heartbroken,” Poe points out with a challenging tilt to his chin.

Rey blinks. The words seem to hang in the air like snowflakes; they hover, weightless and ethereal, not quite connecting and making little sense. Until the phrase finally falls into place with a distinct click.

Rey smashes her laptop shut and curls into a fetal position, hugging her pillow to her chest and gritting her teeth to muffle the sobs raking her body.

Heartbreak. The weight in her limbs and the acute pain in her chest comes from this. By trying to save both herself and Ben from heartbreak, she caused it. She hurt him. She hurt them both.  Rey swallows her tears, struggling to breathe over the rising panic. She brought a sledgehammer to both of their glass hearts.

 

* * *

 

After quitting his job, the weeks blur into a senseless mess. Ben tries to go out and take photos. He tries to drown himself in projects. Ben prays to lose himself in the click of a camera, but she haunts him still. Most nights, he wastes hours staring at her Instagram with one finger hovering over the message button. He thinks of texting her. He spends his waking hours talking to her ghost, imagining her walking beside him.  

                                                                 …

And sometimes Ben considers using words to write Rey. Because words don’t hold as much meaning. Because words can’t reveal just how miserable Ben feels. Words resemble a second language to Rey and Ben. Both of them can speak with words, but they feel too light and fall off the tongue without the heft of their first language.

When Ben sends Rey a photo, he knows that she’ll squint her eyes and interpret a story out of a single second caught with the click of a camera. When he sends her this, she’ll know how he feels. She’ll see the torment in his soul. She’ll note the regret and that pathetic, desperate hope that he nestles near his heart.

Ben takes a swig of his beer and, bolstered by liquid courage, hits send. Just another bad decision encouraged by drinking, he laughs. Just another rejection waiting to happen. Just another person who ultimately decided she can’t save Ben. She won’t reply.

He wakes up groggily. His temples throb and he groans. Reaching out for his phone, he flicks off his alarm. He blinks. He glances down at the screen again to confirm. He has an Instagram notification. His heart pounds against his chest like a prisoner, begging for freedom. He hits the notification. Her photo loads. Ben sucks in a breath. His face feels damp, and he absently rubs away the tears dripping down his cheek. With a jolt, Ben jumps off his bed and starts packing.

                 

* * *

                                 

She wakes up to an Instagram notification. Her heart sputters. She eagerly taps the message, torn between hope and dread. Ben should hate her. She hates herself. Sheer stubbornness and consequential self-loathing from realizing that her own insecurities caused her to sabotage their relationship have kept her from running back to his arms. Instead, she stares at this Instagram and guesses his moods. He barely posts lately.

The photo loads, and the raw honesty of it steals her breath. She stares at a photo of Ben in a white room staring directly into the camera with a neutral expression. One hand reaches out in subjugation. Rey gulps. Her hand reaches out to the screen.

Blinking, she interprets the photo. He took off his mask. He vanquished Kylo Ren. Now, Ben stands before her without baggage, asking her to join him. Ben wants to pave a future together. He forgives her.

Rey scrubs her face hastily, then she sends him her reply: emerald leaves encircling a young couple wrapped in an embrace besides a long boat on Ao Nang. She hits send, knowing that they both have flaws, but she’ll strive to become the best version of herself for both him and for herself.

                                                                 …

Rey stands on her tiptoes by the baggage carousel, while the constant stream of weary travelers who just finished their interrogations at border control dribble past her. She keeps shifting her weight from foot to foot, as if preparing for a race, then glancing down at her phone to double check the flight number on the photo of a plane ticket Ben sent her.

Worst case scenarios flash through her mind. She bites her lip and starts searching for that familiar mob of curly ebony hair again. His flight landed an hour ago. Usually border control in Thailand doesn’t take that long. She typically breezes through it in under forty-five minutes. She glances down at her phone again. Wishing she could text him. Then, she hears a husky hello.

Rey looks up and smiles at a face that she’s memorized in two-dimensions. Seeing him standing before her in an airport in Bangkok feels like a dream. She wraps her arms around his neck and drags Ben down towards her.

He smiles and those coffee eyes of his simmer. Smiling back, Rey kisses him. He tastes of toothpaste, coffee, and something she can’t quite place, something addictive. His arms encircle her, and she feels warm and safe. In his arms, Rey finds the home she gave up searching for years ago. Suddenly, she knows that everything will work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's the last chapter of Snapshots. I am so grateful for all my readers. Thank you all for reading, giving kudos, and commenting. I hope all you you enjoyed reading this.
> 
> Writing Snapshots, which is pretty much my first fanfic, taught me a lot and I hope to use those lessons to improve my writing. 
> 
> I want to give a special thanks to Kylohhh who reached out to me and acted as my beta for this last chapter. Kylohhh not only proof-read everything, but also helped me bounce ideas and was genuinely supportive and sweet. Thank you so so much!
> 
> (Shameless plug) I have two stories that I am working on at the moment, Read My Mind and Crutch, so please keep an eye out for them. Read My Mind is a lighter and more comedic psychologist Rey AU. It's been a blast to write so far, and I am excited for you all to read it. 
> 
> Please comment or give kudos! It makes my day. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I hope that all of you enjoyed reading this. Please comment with questions or responses to my work. I am always happy to reply and I enjoy seeing how I can improve. 
> 
> Not to mention, there were several environmental factors that I needed to change about Rey's past to explain why the girl determined to wait became a travel blogger and freelance photographer.
> 
> More of Rey and Ben's backstories will be revealed in the upcoming chapters. Just to give you all a head's up, the narrative will switch between Rey and Ben's POV and the writing style will change slightly to represent how each sees the world differently. 
> 
> Last warning, I don't have a beta reader. I'm new to fanfiction and this is my first time posting on Archive of Our Own. I have previous work on Fanfiction.net that I am considering bringing over here, but I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> Oh, and Kylo/Ben's photography is not directly inspired by any photographers I know (there are some influences, like a lot of the urban explorers from China); however, Rey's pictures were inspired from some of my own. 
> 
> If you want to see them, I can start posting the pictures, but please be kind. I am not a professional photographer and everything I learned about photography is through taking thousands of photos. Sorry for the long introductory message!


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